The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler
by TorontoBatFan
Summary: Dave and Mindy, aka Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl, have been making an impact on crime.  Now, they must prove themselves as detectives as they try to find and stop a serial killer who is causing panic during the Christmas season.
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome to my second _**Kick-Ass** _fic. I came up with the idea after listening to an irritating Christmas song for about the tenth time in a single day. It's also greatly inspired by "The Fat Guy Strangler" Episode of _**Family Guy. **_Warning: this is a rather grisly fic with violence and a lot of dark humour._

_For those of you who liked my "Trick or Treat" fic, this might be considered a prequel. There are hints of a future Dave and Mindy relationship, but nothing actually transpires here._

_A/N: I don't own the characters. I wish I did._

_A/N2: This takes place approximately a year, or so, after the events of the movie_

_And awayyyy we go! :-D_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler

It was the advent of the Christmas season in New York City. The end of November always brought about a change as regular as the evolving seasons themselves. The air got colder. Store windows became garishly decorated. Bands from the Salvation Army began to play familiar Christmas tunes on well-traversed street corners to solicit donations for their worthy causes. And, of course, there was a Santa Claus on nearly every major corner and every major store or shopping centre. New York City was blanketed in red almost as thoroughly as it was in green on the days leading up to the 17th of March.

To go along with the festive displays, shoppers soon began appearing in the hundreds and then the thousands. From Staten Island to Queens and from Battery Park to the Bronx, anyplace there were stores offering good bargains for Christmas shoppers. And where there were bargains, you would find the shoppers.

Sadly, though, where one found shoppers, one also found individuals for whom the good fellowship of the season was not part of their genetic makeup. In fact, they regarded the bustling Christmas shoppers the same way a Great White would look upon a pack of seals on the surface –they were prey and just waiting for one of them to stand out from the pack. It didn't take long for that to happen.

A heavyset man in what appeared to be a bowling jacket of a Hoboken house league was panting along the street. His wife, a rather skinny woman with a very large hairdo was clicking along in her heels, the staccato rhythm of her heels matching the cracking of her chewing gum.

"For fuck's sake Florence, why the fuck did we have to come into fuckin' Manhattan to go shopping?", complained her husband loudly as he sweated profusely despite the cold weather.

"Melvyn, watch your fucking language! You language is so goddamn filthy, I'm fuckin' ashamed to come into the motherfucking city with you!"

"Then why the hell did you drag me along? I had things to do tonight!"

"Oh yeah, you was gonna go bowling!"

"What the hell is wrong with bowling?"

"Ya does it three times a week! THAT is what's wrong with it!"

"I like to bowl! I spend all day fixing plumbing. I deserve to get outta the house, goddammit!", Melvyn yelled back as the argument continued.

Unbeknownst to the argumentative couple from New Jersey, they were being watched. And by more than one set of eyes, as well. From the rooftop of a store, a young girl in a dark purple costume, that allowed her to blend well into the encroaching darkness, watched the interchange.

Shit, she thought. Another set of victims-about-to-happen from New Jersey! Why can't these shitheads stay on their side of the river and let the Jersey muggers have something to do. It would sure as hell make things easier on us.

Looking down, she mentally marked where Mel and Flo were still engaged in their bowling versus shopping debate. She scanned ahead of them on the street and looked for potential hiding places. She raised her night vision goggles to her masked eyes and scanned a promising looking alley ahead of the New Jersey residents. Bingo! She thought to herself. In the alley were a pair of muggers, in wait. It was, she conceded, a good ambush site. Of course, if you could think as she did –like a predator- predicting where to find prey of her own wasn't a terribly hard thing.

She keyed her microphone. "You there?", she called to her partner

"I'm here."

"You have them?"

"Two guys in the alley across from me?", came a quiet reply from ground level.

"Those are the ones", she said. She was impressed with her partner's growing ability to spot the lowlifes. They'd been working together for a year now and they were beginning to function like a well-oiled machine. She thought wistfully that their smoothness together was almost as good as her and her father.

"They were scoping out this alley before. It cuts right across to near 34th Street. I think they'll come through here after they do it."

"That sounds right to me. So, stay put. Oh, and you'll be handling them solo."

"I am?"

"Damn straight."

"OK.", came a sigh over her receiver.

"Don't have a fucking seizure, dude. I'll be standing by."

"Right.", came the restrained reply.

The girl sprinted from her vantage point to the edge of the building where her rope awaited. As she made her fast descent to ground level she heard the unmistakable sounds of the mugging happening. She listened closely. It seemed to be going down like these things always did. A lot of threats, fear from the victims, then a quick grab of purses and wallets before someone happened by or called the police –not that people were likely to help or call the police. Things just didn't seem to happen like that in the city. It explained why she and her partner had resumed their costumed lifestyles.

As predicted the two muggers ran across the street for the alleyway that would lead them over to 34th Street. Once there, it would be a snap for them to merge into the crowds. Of course, there was no way in hell these two losers were going to be mobile for that long. They would be lucky if they weren't in a morgue wagon an hour from now.

The pair of lowlifes slowed to a jog once in the alley, congratulating themselves on their score. Their victims had not had the inclination to chase after them –and would have been stopped, even if they had such a desire by Flo's high-heels and Melvyn's forty extra pounds. They had no idea their identities had been switched from predator to prey.

"What the fuck man? Forty bucks and a bowling league card? Fat fucks from Jersey! Should've wasted the motherfucker, yo!"

"Fuckin'-A, man! Maybe we's shoulda done the bitch too. Make it worth our while, yo."

"Make the fat fucker watch it too!"

"Word, bro!"

OK, she thought. Time to get the game started. Listening to these two candidates for grammar re-education was making her head hurt and she was pretty sure causing her IQ to fall. From a concealed position she gave a garbage can a hard kick. It toppled over with a loud crash. The two thugs jumped in alarm and looked back.

"What the fuck was that, yo?"

"Fuck, I doesn't know, yo!"

"Cops?"

"Fuck no, yo!"

Alright, she thought. If she had to listen to their lame-ass attempts at sounding 'street' for much longer, she was going to puke. It was time to give them a bit of a scare. With deliberate slowness, she stood out enough to be silhouetted by background lights from the street and waved her purple cape briefly. It had the desired result.

"Oh shit no!"

"Aw man, a Cape!", he said. In the street vernacular he was trying to speak, Capes were the slang term for any and all of the costumed crimefighters who had sprung up over the city, and now the country, in the last year or so.

"Run, yo!", said the first mugger now in the first grips of real fear.

"Is it them?", asked his buddy as he began to huff and puff.

"I don't fucking know! Just run, motherfucker!"

Nice to know that the word is spreading, the girl thought as she began an easy jog after them. She saw where they were in position to her, and thought that in about two seconds…

"Hi there.", a new figure calmly spoke as he dropped out of the shadows from atop a dumpster. He was dressed in what looked like a green wetsuit with yellow piping, although his torso appeared to have extra padding on in, as if he had some kevlar beneath the wetsuit. He wore a full balaclava type mask, of a matching shade of green, with only openings for his eyes and mouth, with a small slit for his nose. He calmly pulled a set of escrima sticks from a holster on his back and spun them in unison with practiced ease.

"FUCK!", the two thugs screamed out of both shock and fear over just who had found them. They did a screeching about face to run back the way they came, only to find the way blocked. Standing there was a girl of about 12 or 13. She was dressed in a purple costume with a matching cape. She also wore a purple tartan skirt, a purple wig, a purple mask and a pink utility belt adorned with the initials 'HG'.

The two punks shot each other looks of matching fear. In most places in New York City, their kind had operated with impunity… until a year ago that is. That was when a green wetsuit clad stranger calling himself Kick-Ass wound up on YouTube stopping a gang swarming. Before anyone could really figure all out, it seemed that wannabe superheroes were popping up everywhere. Anyone who'd read too many comicbooks, anybody who had been mugged one time too often, anyone who had always wanted to simply help their community (sometimes the individuals could check off all of these boxes) were putting together costumes and patrolling the streets in search of crimes to stop…with varying degrees of success, failure and bodily harm.

Kick-Ass himself seemingly retired about the same time all the new heroes made their debut. However, he returned to action a few months later, only this time he had a partner; a masked young girl who called herself Hit-Girl.

Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl, the two names resonated within the city. Internet message boards debated what their relationship was –the theories bounded from an age inappropriate romance to them being siblings. All the new and aspiring heroes looked up to them. And there was a reason for that. While most of the new costumed crimefighters brought simple raw enthusiasm, mixed with varying degrees of skills, to the table, Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl brought real ability (initially Hit-Girl provided the about all the ability, but as the months went by, Kick-Ass' skill levels were steadily increasing), focus and undeniable results.

The new crimefighters might stop an occasional mugging, find a missing cat, help a lost child, or –on one memorable occasion- save some people from a fire. (Even Hit-Girl, who was not easily impressed, said that it was a heroic thing to do when she read about it in the paper.) Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl tended to operate on a different level. They went after the drug dealers and cleaned off corners, putting the displaced dealers in jail -if they were lucky- or the hospital if they weren't. They stopped a home invasion and left the invaders wishing they had never bothered (the ring leader had made an inappropriate comment to Hit-Girl…after three months, he was still in traction at the Riker's Island infirmary). They would work their way up criminal organizations from the street hoods to the suppliers, to the bosses and gut as much of it as they could.

And that was just what could be verified. Rumours swirled about the two of them. There were rumours that they had single-handedly destroyed the vaunted D'Amico crime organization...and blew Frank D'Amico out of his penthouse with a bazooka rocket, to boot. There were rumours that if anyone tried to be particularly stubborn and didn't want to be taken alive…they go along with that and lay someone out on the morgue slab. There were rumours that if they caught someone trying to do a rape, or a murder, or some other particularly heinous act, the perp's one chance for assured survival was to put up their hands, take the beating that they would dish out, and wait for the police to haul them off the emergency room. Any other course of action could be considered suicide.

The criminals of the city also talked about the new order. Most of the costume types –or Capes, as they came to be called- weren't so bad. They didn't pack serious heat or know what they were doing. They ranged from a joke to a nagging problem. Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl were a different story altogether though. They invoked something in the city's criminal classes. They invoked fear. At the dives and hideouts, every two-bit gunman, mugger, safecracker and general lowlife in the sprawling metropolis could name a friend who was now in Sing-Sing, the hospital or the cemetery due to the pair. Bruce Wayne was quite correct in his estimation: criminals were a cowardly and superstitious lot, and they were now afraid of Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. And for the small time hoods…meeting the costumed duo was a nightmare come true.

For the two muggers who'd just fed upon Garden State prey, they were now living their nightmare.

"You got a choice.", growled Hit-Girl without any preamble. "You can take me on, or you can take on Kick-Ass." To anyone unfamiliar with their reputations, it would seem like a lopsided choice. However, Hit-Girl had a reputation on the streets, a bad reputation. She was considered to be the fiercest fighter of all the Capes. One pickpocket, finding himself being chased by her, had made a beeline for a cop, confessed all his misdeeds and begged to be taken to jail so Hit-Girl couldn't get to him.

The two thugs looked at each other and began a clumsy charge towards Kick-Ass. Kick-Ass sidestepped and executed a low sidekick at the first mugger's knee. It gave with a painful sounding snap. The hood went down screaming and clutching his visibly bent leg. The second piece of trash decided stopped and the two faced each other for a brief second. The thug's eyes glanced away for a second then back –a dead giveaway for what he was going to do. From out of his back pocket he pulled a switchblade. Flicking it open, he swung it at Kick-Ass' face, trying to let speed do the work rather than aim.

Kick-Ass was ready for it. The punk had telegraphed his move well ahead of time. The knife didn't worry him at all. Mindy had done that to him so often when they trained that defending against one was pretty much second nature by now. In fact, he almost laughed at how slow and clumsy the guy was next to her.

Kick-Ass leaned back as the knife swished through empty air. The thug's momentum had carried him forward. Kick-Ass swung one of his Escrima sticks in a swift and savage movement. It connected with the radial nerve of his knife hand, a swift kick to the ulnar nerve on the wrist resulted in the knife going flying.

Now, it was getting interesting, thought Kick-Ass. The hood didn't seem to want to give it up. He was now assuming a fighting stance and wanted to take on Kick-Ass barehanded. OK, he thought, if that's how he wants it…

The mugger lunged at him with a roundhouse swing. He twisted and stepped in and to the side of the punch. At the same time he brought his arm out in a swift backhanded motion that connected with the punk's face. The hoodlum's nose crunched inwards with a spurt of blood under the weight of the sap glove reinforced fist.

"FUCK!", screamed the mugger as blood poured from his nose and tears filled his eyes. In a rage, he swung his fists wildly at the crimefighter. One of his fists connected with the side of Kick-Ass' head. Kick-Ass just seemed to shrug it off and gave his opponent a quick jab to the throat. The mugger gagged as his windpipe momentarily collapsed. Kick-Ass pressed his advantage by clapping both hands over the thug's ears and followed it with an elbow strike to the hood's temple and a kick into the solar plexus. The mugger fell with a moan as blood glutted out of his mouth and nose. The first mugger, meanwhile was still screaming and holding his leg with one hand. With the other hand he was trying to pull a gun out his waistband.

Kick-Ass, with a sigh, grabbed one of his sticks from his back holster and savagely swung it at the gunman's wrist. There was another cracking sound and the punk screamed as he saw his wrist now hang at a strange angle whilst the gun went flying. Kick-Ass crouched down and dealt the hood three fast punches with his weighted gloves –two to the mouth and one to the nose. His face a bloodied mess, the mugger fell back unconscious.

Kick-Ass stood and turned to face his partner. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her smiling broadly and proudly at him. As he came face to face with her, he could see the smile be wiped off and replaced with Hit-Girl's familiar smirk.

"Shit, what took you so long? I was about to order a pizza while you finished.", she said as she looked at her left wrist as is she was checking the time. Kick-Ass kept himself from smiling as he knew she was –as she usually did- covering her true feelings with a layer of caustic brassiness. For her to say what she did meant that she was proud of him, very proud.

"It took, what, forty-five seconds?"

"Forty-eight seconds! It hasn't taken me that long to take out a couple of fourth-rate wannabes since I was seven years old."

Kick-Ass crossed his arms patiently as they went into their standard routine. It was always the same. Mindy would go on and on about how slow he was, how he was doing what she could do when she was still in the single digits of age, etc. It was all bluster. She was proud of what Dave had accomplished and how far he'd come after a only a year of intense training under her tutelage. He knew it, and what's more she knew he knew.

"One had a knife. The other asshole had a gun. They're both now waiting for the ambulance to take them to the Rikers' infirmary."

"Alright, I'll give you that.", Hit-Girl said with a grudging smile. "You're getting better. There's no getting around that." She raised up her arm and the two exchanged high-fives and matching grins.

"Want to go on over to 34th Street and see if there's anything going on there? Lots of people shopping.", Kick-Ass said as the two walked down the alley together.

Hit-Girl, who had been talking on a cellphone (a special one with a bootleg number that was used for patrol duties only) shut it down after calling the police with information on where to pick-up their latest opponents and rolled her eyes.

"Fuck! You said it!. It's not even Thanksgiving for two more days, and everybody in the five boroughs is out shopping!", she said with digust.

"I remember last year, Katie and I went shopping together." Kick-Ass said wistfully while looking up at the night sky. He didn't see Hit-Girl making 'gag-me' motions with her finger.

"Shit! You've gotta get over it. She's moving to Denver. It happens!", Hit-Girl said with forced patience –as this was hardly the first time they'd discussed the situation with Katie Deauxma. For Mindy, once was more than enough.

"Come on, it's not that…", Kick-Ass' complaint was cut off by the sounds of screaming. Without a word, the two costumed crimefighters took off at a sprint towards the sound of the screams.

Emerging onto 34th Street, Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl raced to the source of the screams. It was a pair of girls who appeared to be around Mindy's age. They were gathered around a streetlamp that was blacked out. Hit-Girl noted the ramp and mentally made a note as to find out if the lack of illumination was due to overdue maintenance by the City, or due to intervention by someone who wanted darkness to commit acts of greater darkness.

One of the girls turned at the sound of the approaching footfalls. Expecting to see the police, she did a take at the sight of Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. Nevertheless, she pulled her friend aside to allow for an unobstructed view of the crime scene.

Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass came to a screeching halt and stared dumbfounded at the sight that awaited them. Both of them had witnessed many grisly sights in their relatively short crimefighting careers. They had, to an extent, become jaded at most sights. This sight, however, was so strange their jaws were scraping the ground.

Lying on the ground, next to a charity collection pot (which, upon subsequent inspection was full) , was a man dressed in a Santa Claus costume. Wrapped tightly around his neck was a Christmas ribbon. It appeared that was the cause of death as the face was visibly contorted and there were ligature marks over the windpipe. The trademark red hat was stuffed into the mouth. The Santa's beard and mustache had become loose in the struggle and were half off. Finally, as if the sight could not be any more disturbing, the red pants were pulled halfway down and the collection bell has been violently inserted into the rectum.

Kick-Ass, who thought he'd seen a lot was utterly dumbfounded by the apparent violence of the crime, but also at the fact that the excessive brutality and the insertion of the bell had made it a very personal issue for whoever did this. He looked over at Hit-Girl, expecting to find her usual stoic toughness. Instead, even she was looking surprised at this discovery. She knew that the city was full of violent, sociopathic perverts who came out of the woodwork at dark. But this…This was something new, at least to her. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of what _The New York Post_ headline would be the following day.

The two of them suppressed their surprise and disgust at the sight as they began to make observations of the scene. Each was thinking the same thing. Either the guy wearing the suit had probably been targeted specifically. Or, it had been a random act of violence, with the killer's next victim being completely different.

They could scarcely have been more wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

_Merry Christmas readers. Here is Part II of the story. I would like to thank everyone who posted positive reviews. It motivated me to get this chapter written faster. _

_There's not too much action in this chapter and it's heavy on exposition. I do hope people like it though._

_The dialogue between Dave and Marcus at the end is partially inspired by the hilarious YouTube video "Dark Knight Interrogation Scene Spoof"._

_Once again, I love reviews. The more I get, the more I'm inspired to write and update sooner. :-D_

_Happy New Year's everyone. :-)_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part II

A fist shot at Dave's head. He weaved to the right and the fist whizzed by his head. He launched his own punch at his opponent, only to have it blocked. At the same time his opponent launched a roundhouse kick at his head. Dave swiftly brought his arm up to intercept the kick. Instead of just blocking it, he caught the bare foot that was swinging for his head and trapped it, while simultaneously sweeping at his opponent's remaining leg. His foe fell, but while doing so, lashed out with a sweeping kick at Dave's own legs, catching him at back of his knee joints.

Dave fell to the ground, fearing what would happen now that the fight was shifting to a grappling match. His fears were justified as he felt his opponent's small but strong legs wrap around his neck and begin to apply pressure.

Feeling his air supply start to be cut off, Dave shot his own legs out to apply the same move to his resourceful foe, hoping that he could apply more pressure to black his opponent out first, at the same time he blindly reached out to where his opponent's arm should be. His hope was to apply a wrist lock. His thinking was that an increase in pain would cause his foe to expend more oxygen and thus black out first as a result of his leg lock at the neck.

Dave would never know if that plan would have worked. At that second a loud buzzer sounded. Startled, the two combatants paused in their mortal combat. From above them, a door opened and a voice called down.

"Dave, I'm leaving for work now. Can you two switch the loads around and fold up the shirts?"

Dave gave a sigh of disgust and resignation, all mixed together, as the grip around his neck was disengaged. He unwrapped his own legs from Mindy's neck. As if to show off, she smirked at him and did a back roll on the training mat where she pushed off into a standing position.

"Ok, Dad. Have a good day." Dave called up to his father. Mindy swiftly unstrapped the sparring gloves she was wearing and pushed her hair off of her mildly perspiring forehead. Dave undid his own sparring gloves and lead Mindy over to the washing machine and dryer set against the basement wall. Mindy set about removing clothes from the dryer and efficiently folding them up. Dave moved wet clothes into the dryer from the washer and set about loading the washer with a load of dirty sheets. Putting some liquid detergent and fabric softener into the washing machine and a dryer sheet into the dryer, he started both appliances up while Mindy finished folding and hanging the recently dried load.

Mindy looked over at Dave as she folded Casimir Lizewski's shirts. "You were doing pretty good there, you know. I was impressed how fast you blocked the kick."

"Thanks. I didn't want to take it to the ground though"

"Shit, you never want to do that if you can avoid it. The thing is, if we're out on patrol and a fight goes to the ground, it's one thing if there's only one douchebag. That's bad but manageable. If he's got buddies with him, then you're in a world of fucking shit because they can kick the living fuck out of you while you're down on the ground rubbing balls with douchebag number one. You just can't let that happen. Use mace, use your cute looking, gay-ass taser, if you have to, but for fuck's sake never try to get into a grappling match if a punk isn't alone and his buddies are still able to fight. I mean, UFC is cool to watch, but it's not something you ever want to use when we're working." Dave listened to her analysis. He had to admit that her dissertation was absolutely correct.

"How'd I do otherwise?"

"Fuck dude, I gotta say, you're really getting good at it." Mindy said with a smile.

"Thanks." Dave said as he savoured the pride of knowing his hard work and many, MANY bruises suffered at Mindy's hands (and feet) were beginning to show results.

The two young crimefighters turned around and looked at their secret lair; their crimefighting headquarters; their very own version of the Batcave. It was one half of the basement of Dave's house.

So far, their equipment consisted of a fairly decent set of York cast iron free weights. The bench press and barbells had actually been there before and had belonged to Dave's dad. Dave and Mindy had simply dusted it off and added some new bars and plates, along with some interchangeable dumbbells. They'd placed a squat rack next to the bench and a chin-up bar was positioned in the doorway to the fruit cellar. (It was set for Dave's height, but Mindy always did a running jump at it before starting her pull-ups.) A heavy punching bag hung suspended from a ceiling beam. Its faded appearance indicated that it had been used very often, and very intensely since it was first hung back in the summer. It was actually the third one Dave and Mindy had set up. Mindy tended to be rough on punching bags. To Dave's immense pleasure, he noticed that he was starting to be as hard on the bag as Mindy was.

A training Jong stood in the corner, next to various striking targets and hand pads. A lock box contained various knives that were used to train with. They would practice both throwing them and defending against all sorts of knife assaults. This was actually the training that Dave felt the most affinity for. Being stabbed on his very first outing as Kick-Ass had left him all too aware of how deadly a knife attack could be. Even though his costume was now augmented by Kevlar (In fact, his old wetsuit had been replaced by a tougher, fireproof costume. It had taken the two of them quite some time to find one on the internet. The toughness of the material wasn't an issue, but finding one the right colour was more of a challenge.), Dave was still on the guard against knife attacks. Mindy knew this and for that very reason used knives against him all the time when they practiced. It was working. Dave still respected what a knife could do, but thanks to Mindy's relentless training he had no fear of them and had, on numerous occasions over the preceding year, successfully defended himself against them –most often without the assistance of his Escrima sticks. It was this training that had allowed him to effortlessly take out the mugger the night before.

A locked trunk contained Kevlar vests that were used for both training and patrols. Dave had been rather distressed (or scared shitless, to be totally honest) the day when Mindy took him to an abandoned industrial area had him don a bulletproof vest and then calmly pull out a pistol and announce she was going to shoot him. Mindy had actually laughed at Dave's not unexpected freakout at that piece of news. She said that it was something her father had done with her, and it did pay off on the streets. Thus, Dave had stood still while Mindy fired rounds at his chest. To his credit, he stood stoically while she moved up the range of calibers. When she finished the session with three .45acp rounds fired from a Colt 1911A1 automatic pistol (which had come close to knocking her off her own feet when she'd fired the powerful handgun), she walked over to where he'd been knocked to the ground. She'd just smiled at him and told him he'd done well. Helping him to his feet, she announced that she was treating him to a latte on the way home.

Finally, on the wall was a rack that contained a pair of replicas for Hit-Girl's signature weapon, the double-bladed bostaff. It was the weapon Mindy had used to slaughter a room full of drug dealers the first time they'd met. Dave had seen her slice a man's leg off in one swipe with it. One time soon after they'd resumed their costumed careers, when busting in on a rapist about to make a thirteen year old girl his victim, Mindy had literally taken off the rapists head at the neck with one particularly good swipe. (That was, they agreed later, a rather epic event. The would-be victim looked like she was about to vomit as her attacker's head was detached from the neck. Even Mindy looked a tad surprised at what had happened.) It was probably one of, if not THE deadliest weapon –barring firearms- in their arsenal, and when Mindy used it, Dave thought it was like watching a master artisan at work. To watch her twirl it in front of her as she moved towards a thug, was simply a thing of beauty. It was like watching a pint-sized, purple-clad version of Darth Maul. More than a few criminals –who were aware of what Hit-Girl could do when she had her staff with her- simply put up their hands and surrendered when she saw her wielding it. It was, frankly, too dangerous to train with. Thus, they used training ones which had dull blades that also had a rubber sheath on.

The one type of weapon they didn't keep around here was firearms. Those were kept either at Mindy's house, or at various locations that were first set up by Damon Macready and that Mindy had maintained following her father's death. Marcus Williams, Mindy's guardian and surrogate father, had simply not wanted to know what had happened to the vast arsenal of weaponry that Damon Macready had amassed. He had decided that plausible deniability would simply be the best choice for him.

Overall, Dave and Mindy were quite proud of their crimefighting lair, the headquarters of Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl, but still…There was something lacking.

"Why do I get the feeling Bruce Wayne doesn't have to stop training in the Batcave to change loads in the washing machine?" Dave asked sarcastically.

"Because he's a fucking billionaire with a tricked out mansion and really awesome butler, that's why. Shit, he doesn't even have the washing machine anywhere close to the Batcave."

"It kind of takes away from the whole 'secret lair' thing to have my dad calling down from the basement door."

"It's better than you decked out in your costume trying to bust moves in front of your closet mirror."

"You know about that?" Dave sighed in an embarrassed voice.

"I came by once, and saw you. Dude, you looked like a tall, skinny Yoda. I loved the bit where you did the jump kick." Mindy laughed.

"I'm glad you didn't come in then."

"I figured you'd be sulking in embarrassment all night if I did."

"Thanks. I know it's better than nothing, but I just wish we could have…."

"Shit, do you maybe want a fucking giant penny and a dinosaur statue? By the way just what purpose do they serve anyways?"

"The first question is a no. The second question is I have no idea."

"A sliding door up in your masturbation chamber, er, I mean bedroom, with poles labeled 'Dave' and 'Mindy' leading down here?"

"My 'masturbation chamber'?"

"Dave, I've used your computer, you know. I've seen what sites you've got bookmarked. Shit, do you think you're a special case? I'm surprised Todd and Marty don't have fucking forearms that look like Popeye's."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've seen them looking at those adult anime graphic novels when we're at Atomic Comics."

"Oh"

"Getting back to what I was saying…"

"Yeah, I just wish, we could have a headquarters that felt more professional."

"I know. I kind of wish we did too." Mindy said as she sat down on the mat and began stretching as she cooled down from their morning training session.

"Too bad we can't use your basement."

"Yeah, I don't think Marcus would want to turn his rec room into a crimefighters secret lair."

"I've got to admit, Mindy, it IS pretty fucking cool down there: the pool table, the stereo, the wetbar. He must have some pretty good parties."

"He says that he's not as much into that as he used to be. He did throw some pretty epic parties back in the day, or so he says." Mindy said with a smile. Then her smile faded as she recalled something else.

"That's where my mom and dad met, you know? It was at one of Marcus' parties. He and Marcus had just been working together about three or four months. My mom was a nurse's aide at Bellevue. Marcus met her when he brought a suspect in for treatment. They got to be friends. He asked her to a party he was having one Friday night. He wanted her to meet his partner. That was my dad." She said with a sad look on her face. Mindy tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. Dave just put his hand on her shoulder and smiled at her encouragingly. He knew that she hated showing any weakness. She felt it lessened her as a crimefighter. Dave thought it simply made her more human. In truth, he was relieved when she showed cracks like that. It was better than when she held it all in. In actuality, Dave was the only person Mindy would ever allow to see the chinks in her armour. She felt she had to be strong in front of Marcus, so he wouldn't think she was an undue burden on him after taking her in. With Dave, she felt she could open up more.

Mindy looked up at Dave as he squeezed her shoulder gently. She flashed a brief smile at him, and then her face shifted back to a look of determination. She rose to her feet and crossed over the mats to a desk where a computer sat. On the way, Mindy passed the heavy punching bag. In one smooth move, she executed a vicious sidekick as she passed it. The bag, for a brief millisecond, doubled over to a 'v' shape before resuming it's more normal shape. It swung violently up towards the ceiling, almost coming off of its support hook before swinging back down and into a more gentle pendulum. "Fucking D'Amico!" she spat with absolute hatred as she passed by.

Dave watched passively. The D'Amico Organization was, for all intents and purposes, finished. Frank D'Amico was dead and so was just about every person who worked for him. Of his employees, about the only man not dead was the doorman to the D'Amico Building. He'd somehow –through freakishly good luck- survived Mindy's bullets on the night where their war with the D'Amico Organization achieved an apotheosis. They had kept tabs on him though, after his release from hospital. There was always a likelihood of him being useful to them somehow. The only other D'Amico member still alive was Chris D'Amico, formerly known as Red Mist.

Red Mist…He was a special case for them. So far as Dave and Mindy were concerned, he was to them what The Joker was to Batman. He was the foe that took precedence above just about anything else. The only difference was, Mindy swore that if she had the chance, she wasn't going to be merciful to him. She was going to kill Red Mist, and she was going to make sure his death was very, very slow and very, very, very painful. Dave, who had convinced Mindy that they should at least try to bring criminals in alive –or at least give them one chance to surrender first- had to agree with Mindy's plan. Red Mist had betrayed his trust, and had cost Damon his life and almost cost Dave his. For the pain it had caused Mindy, Dave was more than happy to go along with whatever she had planned for Chris D'Amico. Dave disliked it when he and Mindy had to actually use deadly force. However, Chris D'Amico had caused his partner and best friend to lose her dad. So far as Dave was concerned, Marv from _Sin City_ said it best: the hell they would send Red Mist to, was going to be like a heaven in comparison to what they would do to send him there.

Dave crossed the mat and sat down at the computer desk. The computer had been purchased with some of the cash they'd found when smashing an Ecstasy lab the previous winter. It wasn't used for any purpose aside for professional usage. The IP address was routed to a location somewhere in Nepal where it was registered to a certain gentleman named Shusterbobkane Stanleekirby. Dave had idly wondered if anyone would ever try and track down that name –or even look closely at it and figure out the hidden meaning to the name. As a finishing touch, the location of the IP address holder was the police station in Kathmandu. Dave and Mindy had both laughed hysterically at that little touch they'd added.

Dave turned on the computer while Mindy stretched grabbed a pair of water bottles from a small bar fridge. He opened the file logs for the month of November. Since he and Mindy had set out, as a team, to fight crime for real they had kept records of their activities. They recorded –to the best of their ability- the details of what had gone down and where. They even made sure to get the names of the perps so they could crosscheck if they ever encountered them again. Now, Dave was looking over the log from the previous night. He skimmed over their takedown of the two lowlife muggers –who were both now recovering in the infirmary at Riker's Island. (Mindy had related, after being told by Marcus, that the staff at Riker's was thinking of renaming a section of the infirmary there "The Kick-Ass & Hit-Girl Wing" as the two had provided them so much business in the last year. Dave and Mindy had exchanged a high-five and treated themselves to some sushi after hearing that.) Dave added the particulars of their latest successes to the crime files. They would keep tabs on the particulars of any court proceedings and subsequent incarceration. When one or both of the losers was going to be back on the street, they would make a note of it and keep tabs on them to see if they'd learned their lesson or not.

Now, Dave got past the part on the mugging and onto the stranger part of last night's patrol; the murder of a street corner Santa Claus in front of his charity collection pot. Some details Dave and Mindy had found out on their own. Others had been provided by hacking into the New York Police Department's computers (yet another skill that Damon Macready had taught his daughter, and that knowledge was what allowed them to gain the majority of information that went into their case files). More details came courtesy of the newspapers.

"Let's see here, Mindy" Dave said as he opened a window on the screen. "The victim is one Henry Green, aged 45. He was an electrician who worked for Con-Ed. He was married with two kids. Apparently he played Santa every year for the last four years."

"Did he have any type of record?"

"He has a couple of speeding tickets each on the Jersey Turnpike and Long Island Expressway. Aside from that, he has a clean record. Oh, and get this: the collection pot had well over forty dollars in it, completely untouched."

"Shit, this is fucking weird."

"You said it. The coroner's preliminary report is that cause of death was strangulation. The bell's insertion into the rectum was post-mortem."

"That fucker would have hurt going in if it wasn't."

"Oh fuck yeah, it would have."

"Let me guess, the people around were like their usual brand of New York monkeys. They have seen no evil, they've heard no evil, they will speak of no evil and they sure as hell won't call 911 for any evil"

"Yes and no. Witnesses are willing to come forward, but nobody saw anything. Witnesses all say they saw the guy ringing his bell out there for the last hour. Apparently, he stopped doing it every once in a while just to step inside the Starbucks to use the washroom and warm up. When he did, he took his collection pot with him. The barrista said he'd come in around ten minutes or so before the screaming started."

"So, he must have been attacked on his way back to his corner."

"So it would seem. Did you notice the place last night? That spot between the corner and the Starbucks door?"

"Where it was dark? Yeah, I did. It was the perfect ambush spot."

"You think so?"

"Damn straight. The way I see it, the guy must have been waiting there for Santa to come out from taking a leak. Santa comes out from the Starbucks. The streetlight was out, so it's darker than normal. He's come from inside the bright Starbucks so it takes him a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Before that happens, fucker comes up behind him with the ribbon and hasta-la-vista baby."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Dave said thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin. "But why though? It wasn't robbery, as the pot wasn't touched. Plus, if it was robbery, why not use a gun or knife. This was a deliberate kill from the get-go. And the bell up the ass? That's fucking sick."

"Did this Green guy have any enemies?"

"According to the preliminary reports, he was an official for the Electrician's Local, and there were a couple of guys he was butting heads with over control for it. Think there's a connection?"

"I seriously fucking doubt it. Shitheads who pull Jimmy Hoffa type of crap don't go for the weird shit. They're more guns or knives types if weapons are involved. If they don't have those, beatings tend to be the norm. So, where does that leave us?"

"Victim's widow says that the guy had no enemies. People at work and in the neighbourhood generally liked him. Nobody had any sort of grievance against him; at least nothing that would qualify for something like this."

"Then what the fuck happened? Someone took the trouble to strangle the guy, in public, then stuff a hat into his mouth, pull down his pants and shove a bell up his ass. Sure as shit doesn't sound like a mugging that went bad, even if the money had been taken."

"I know. Fuck Mindy, I'm not even sure if we should be worrying about this."

"Why are we then?"

"I don't know. I guess…I guess I thought it would be good if we could try and see if we're good at something other than just putting drug dealers and muggers in the hospital."

"What we normally do is getting boring for you, or something?"

"No, but people think of us as just a couple of vigilantes in masks who only know how to beat street thugs into pulp and then move on to the next crime we come across. Don't you ever want to see if we could be…something more?"

Mindy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I do. There's another reason too. Last night, those two kids were surprised when we showed up there. They were probably expecting the cops to show up. I was timing it. It was almost ten minutes before the first police car showed up there. And what's going to happen now? I guess… I guess I don't have that much faith in the police to catch this guy. I really can't have faith in a department that put my dad in jail on a frame-up and still pays a salary to Vic Gigante." She said with a frown. Gigante was second only to Chris D'Amico in terms of people she truly hated. An ongoing project they'd talked about for over a year had been to try and find a way to prove that Gigante had been on the D'Amico payroll. Mindy harboured hopes that her father's name could be posthumously vindicated if they could prove he'd been framed. "So far as I'm concerned, there's only one cop in this whole city I trust. And that's Marcus. I figure that we should try and see what we can do, so we'll know if we can really let people know we're doing something."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"So, what do we have to go on then?"

"Not much. So far, it looks like it was just a nutjob who was looking for a victim. Green was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Green's dead and the nutjob is back in the woodwork. He's probably going to get arrested for something minor and he'll spill the beans then."

"So, I guess there's not much we can do then."

"Not really." Dave said with a sigh as he shut down the computer.

"So, I was thinking I would head over into Manhattan today. As much as I hate to join the crowd, I was thinking of doing some Christmas shopping." Mindy said as she and Dave walked upstairs from the basement.

"You hate Christmas shopping."

"Yeah, but it has to be done. Maybe I'll luck out and some lame-ass motherfucker will try to mug me." Mindy said with a hopeful grin.

Dave had to laugh at that. If some unlucky thug thought Mindy was going to be an easy mugging victim, he would get a lesson he'd never forget. Two former bullies at their school had learned that a year prior on Mindy's very first day. Dave had noted that he, Todd and Marty generally didn't get mugged or harassed by bullies since Mindy started attending Filmore High and started hanging out with them. On the one hand, having a then freshman student –and one who was at least two or three years younger than the average- hang out with them might have lowered their coolness perception. On the other hand, who were they kidding? They'd never been considered even remotely cool. Mindy fit right in with them, and none of the Neanderthal jocks or wannabe punks ever messed with them anymore.

"I guess I'll go with you. Get a start on my own shopping." Dave said placidly

"Suit yourself." Mindy said mildly as she fought down a grin as she didn't want to let on that she was glad Dave would be keeping her company for the day.

Two hours later, Dave and Mindy were navigating through the busy Manhattan streets that were filled with shoppers who also had this day before Thanksgiving off and were getting a start on shopping.

Several stores had speakers mounted outside and were piping out Christmas music. Some stores had actually begun playing the music the day after Halloween. Many people –Dave and Mindy counted themselves as a part of this group- were already tired of it.

"Shit." Mindy exclaimed as they trudged through the cold November air, "Can't they come up with some new fucking songs? It's always the same lame-ass ones repeating themselves!" as she heard the tunes to _I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus_ start up again.

"Yeah, but I think that they're piped in from satellite feeds. Not too much they can do about it. It's getting to you?"

"Fuck yeah. I think I may have go and try to attract a mugger just to let off some steam soon." Mindy said with a laugh.

"We left our *other clothes* at home." Dave said, wary of the ears of passersby.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Mindy said with resignation. "Hey, we're coming up on Macy's. Want to go see if they have anything on?"

"Why not?"

"Whoa dude. Don't sound too enthusiastic there. I might have to nerve pinch you, or something."

"I just can't believe that there are people who like to shop. I can't wait to get this done and get home."

"It's not the shopping, it's…." Mindy's voice trailed off as they passed by an alley that led to Macy's service entrance. A flash of red caught her eye amidst the grey, brown and general dinginess of a New York City back alley. She gripped Dave's arm and nodded towards what they'd seen. The partners slipped off the street into the alley and moved towards what Mindy had seen. A few more steps and the two of them flashed back to the night before.

Laying on the ground was a man in a Santa Claus suit. It appeared he'd stepped out through a service entrance for a smoke break, as a pack of Marlboros and a lighter were at his side. Wrapped tightly around his neck was a Christmas ribbon. The man's face was contorted and discoloured and his eyes stared open glassily.

Dave and Mindy looked at each other and simultaneously nodded. As if they read each other's thoughts they reversed themselves and calmly walked out of the alley. Mindy pulled out her cellphone and placed an anonymous 911 call as she and Dave walked casually yet purposefully away from Macy's.

They began to walk faster and headed for the nearest subway entrance, with the intent of heading back to Dave's house immediately.

"I didn't see any cameras watching the alley." Dave said quietly.

"Yeah, we don't have to worry about that. They tend to watch the loading docks, we're good as far as that's concerned."

"Think it's our friend from last night?"

"Fuck, I can't imagine anything else. Two guys in Santa suits strangled inside of twenty-four hours. Not even New York City is so fucked up for that to be a coincidence."

"I was thinking the same thing. Mindy, I was thinking of something."

"What?"

"What shift is Marcus on today?"

"He's on 3pm-11pm today. Why?"

"I think we need to talk to him later on this evening." Dave said as they descended the subway steps together.

Sergeant Marcus Williams looked at his watch. It was 7:30pm. Three and a half more hours until the tour ended, he thought. He looked around the room and saw that it was deserted, aside from another sergeant who was doing the same thing he was –catching up on paperwork. Since January, Marcus had been assigned as a supervisor to the Anti-Crime Unit of the 23rd Precinct. It was a plain clothes street crimes unit. So far, Marcus had enjoyed the new assignment. He did worry about Mindy when he was at work. He constantly kept his ears alerted for any reports regarding the city's various costumed crimefighters, specifically Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl.

When Mindy has resumed her Hit-Girl activities Marcus realized trying to stop her was futile. If he tried too hard, it would just drive her away. Damon has simply gotten her hooked on being Hit-Girl. Mindy and Hit-Girl were now forever linked, he'd realized. Marcus partially blamed himself. He should have been more wary of Gigante some fourteen years ago when Damon was first framed. Or, when Damon got out of prison, with that bulked up frame and disturbingly unblinking intensity, Marcus should have gotten him some professional help. If he had, maybe his best friend would still be alive and Mindy would be living a normal life. But, he couldn't change the past. He could just hope for the best in the future. At least Mindy didn't work alone. She and Dave were pretty much inseparable in terms of their teamwork. He picked up his pen and had resumed his work on submitting overtime pay vouchers for his team to payroll when his cell phone chirped a signal to him about an incoming text message. Flipping open his Nokia, Marcus scanned the text and sighed audibly. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was feeling a headache coming on.

Finally, he stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. As he walked to the door, he called over to his fellow sergeant.

"Hey Ted, I'm gonna go make a run across the street to Starbucks. Do you want anything?"

"Sure. I'll have a tall of whatever their Bold grind is for today."

"Black, no sugar?"

"That's it."

"Right, I'll be back in fifteen minutes, or so."

"Take your time pal, and thanks."

Marcus left the squad room and made for the stairs. He made a mental note to be sure to remember to go to Starbucks after his little meeting. He walked up a flight of stairs to the door leading to the roof. He pushed it open, stepped outside and looked around.

From the shadows a voice growled at him, "Sergeant Williams. You got the message?" The voice sounded rough and gravelly, it sounded like a really, really bad imitation of Clint Eastwood's character from _Gran Torino_ after contracting laryngitis. Marcus sighed and shook his head with sad frustation. Why, oh why did they always have to go through this theatrical crap?

"Hi Da…I mean, Kick-Ass", Marcus sighed with a bored tone of voice. "You got a cold or something? Your voice sounds kind of rough…again"

"We need your help." Kick-Ass rasped back at him from the shadows.

"I told you last time, we can't get the budget approved for a giant searchlight to call you." Marcus deadpanned. "By the way, you should see a doctor. I think you might have strep throat, or something."

"It's not that, and I don't have strep throat!" Kick-Ass said in his strangled growl.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't understand a word you just said. Could you enunciate a bit more please?" Marcus said as he wondered why Dave felt they had to do this routine every fucking time they wanted to talk to him like this. It's not like they were hiding anything from him. For Christ's sake, Dave had dinner at his house whenever they had Mexican night. He himself was having Thanksgiving dinner at the Lizewski house tomorrow.

"It's not that." Dave rasped again, but with a slightly less animalistic sound. Damn, thought Marcus. He must need to have a cold drink or something when these little chats of theirs ended.

"What is it then?"

"The murders that have been happening; we need to know some things."

"Oh?" Marcus asked with some genuine interest. "What murders would those be?"

"The strangling of men in Santa Claus suits."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. What do you want to know?"

"What are the main theories being kicked around? Are there any suspects?

"Not my area, I'm afraid. I'm Anti-Crime Unit, we deal with street crime. As of the second case, it got kicked to the Manhattan Detective Bureau. It's no longer being handled by the local precincts. They're coordinating with Major Crimes and Special Victims Units."

"We were wondering what you could find out off the record. What's the talk around the squad rooms? What's being said at the police bars? We mean the unofficial theories as well as the official ones; that type of thing." Kick-Ass growled.

"Ok, I gotcha; I'll see what I can find out." Marcus sighed. He had to admit he was impressed that Dave and Mindy were looking into the case. He didn't think they would actually be able to solve it, but he was impressed anyways. "Maybe I'll stop in for a beer when I get off and listen to what the guys who work at One Police Plaza are saying."

"We appreciate that."

"Anytime…Kick-Ass" Marcus sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cardboard box. He tossed it to Kick-Ass who caught it easily and looked at the label.

"What are these?"

"Strepsils. They're throat lozenges. You sound like you have something really wrong with your throat. You should really see a doctor." Marcus said with a barely suppressed smirk. He started to walk back to the stairway door when he turned around again and called to Kick-Ass who was walking towards the rope he had secured to a vent. "Hey, Kick-Ass!"

"Yeah?"

"Please tell 'Hit-Girl' that if she sees a certain blonde girl to please remind her to run the dishwasher tonight." He said, knowing that Mindy was likely lurking just under the edge of the roof listening in to them. Shit, he wished they would drop the whole raspy voice thing. He felt ridiculous playing along with it. But, he figured that fate had cast him as Jim Gordon to Dave and Mindy's Batman and Robin. At least, he could get a bit of a chuckle out of it. He turned back around and saw that Dave had completely vanished from the ledge and the rope was gone too. Well, Marcus thought to himself, he had to admit that Dave was getting really good. Mindy was obviously training him well.

Re-entering the stairwell, Marcus descended the stairs to the ground floor where he walked down to the Starbucks. He was planning ahead to his trip to a cop bar he knew and sometimes frequented. He would learn what he could and pass on the information when he and Mindy went to the Lizewski house for dinner tomorrow.

He wondered again what was prompting Dave and Mindy to try and look at such a case. It was clearly not part of their usual routine. It was almost impossible that they would have any success at it. But still…The two of them had pulled off feats he wouldn't have believed. They might just surprise him again, thought Marcus as he entered the Starbucks and pulled out his wallet.


	3. Chapter 3

_Greetings dear readers, fellow true believer, and all other Kick-Ass fans._

_Here's Chapter III. I actually planned on this being longer. However, I found that where this chapter ended was a natural cut off point. I hope to perhaps have Chapter IV up very soon as well. So, instead of one VERY long Chapter III, there's a moderately long Chapter III and Chapter IV._

_This has a lot less action than the other chapters. It's mainly to give closure to Dave and Katie's relationship. So, we'll be back to more -hopefully- cool action scenes and Dave/Mindy interaction in the next chapter._

_As you all know, I'm as addicted to reviews as Dave and Mindy are to being costumed crimefighters. Please feed my addiction. It'll encourage me to get Chapter IV up ASAP. :-D_

_Enjoy!_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part III

Casimir Lizewski sat at his kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and eating his breakfast cereal. It was eight days past Thanksgiving, and he was thankful for the fact that they'd finally eaten their way through the leftover turkey. He was looking forward to some kielbasa that night.

His peaceful reverie was interrupted by the sound of the side storm door opening and a key being inserted into the main door. He tensed and relaxed, as he was aware that there was only one other person aside from him and Dave who had a key to their side door.

His supposition was proven correct as the door creaked open and Mindy entered the house. She saw Dave's dad finishing his breakfast and smiled at him.

"Hi Mister L."

"Good morning, Mindy. Are you and Dave going to train a bit before school?"

"Maybe. I'll see what Dave thinks."

"It might do him some good. You know that Katie and her family are heading off to Denver tomorrow morning. Training's supposed to be good for getting your mind off of things, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Dave's mentioned that." Mindy said reservedly. She didn't say that Dave had mentioned that fact to her about a dozen times in the last week.

"How are things…going" Casimir asked cautiously. He never knew how to approach the subject of what his son and this girl spent a large part of their discretionary time doing. On the one hand, he was proud of his son –very proud. On the other hand, he was oftentimes petrified when he thought of the dangers they faced. After accidentally discovering Dave's secret almost a year prior, Cas had been introduced to Mindy and been told her story. Dave had been adamant that he couldn't allow Mindy to work on her own. Cas concluded that if he tried to ban Dave from being Kick-Ass, he would just sneak around and do it anyway. When he was Dave's age, he had defied his own father and run off to join the Army. He preferred his son to at least know that he supported his decision to try and help others. As well, he knew that kids could often get influenced into bad elements. More isolated and awkward boys like Dave even more so. Given a choice, he preferred his son to be doing what he was, with Mindy rather than getting into a street gang or experimenting with drugs.

"We're doing alright. We're…working…on something." Mindy said cautiously. She herself was sometimes uncertain of how much to tell Dave's dad. On the one hand, she disliked misleading a man she'd grown quite fond of. On the other hand, she didn't want to cause him worry. (The one thing she was certain of, was to always curtail her usual 'colourful' vocabulary around him. She rather thought that Dave's dad wouldn't appreciate a girl her age using language that would offend people who worked in either a prison, or in the rap industry.)

"Well, I hope it turns out alright. You know, I still can't believe how Dave decided to do…this…after being mugged. He seemed to take it so well after he got out of the hospital. I never would have guessed he'd decide to try and find the person who mugged him, by becoming some type of superhero. I guess what that mugger did to him must have really affected him badly"

"Yeah…People have strange reactions to things." Mindy said as she suppressed a smirk. Dave's dad had jumped to the conclusion that his son had chosen to become Kick-Ass after his near-fatal mugging. He never guessed that the so-called 'mugging' had been Dave's abortive first attempt at costumed crimefighting. Dave and Mindy had mutually decided that Casimir would be happier if they didn't correct his assumption. Likewise, they'd never let on that the anonymous donor who had paid off any uninsured medical expenses from Dave's recovery had in fact been Dave and Mindy's work in busting a heroin distribution ring that had yielded over 200 pounds of drugs turned over to the police…and about a million dollars in cash that went to paying off Dave's medical bills, upgrading and replacing worn equipment, a paintjob for the former "Mistmobile" –that they now used as their vehicle when mobility was needed, a hefty donation to a children's charity, and some more fuel for their jet-pack.

"Well, I'm off to work. I'm pulling extra shifts for Christmas money. Help yourself to coffee or anything to eat if you want." Cas said as he pulled on his coat and shoes.

"Thanks, Mister L. Have a good day."

"Bye, Mindy." Casimir said as he left through the side door.

After Casimir left, Mindy poured herself a cup of coffee. She sipped it as she looked at the newspaper she'd removed from her shoulder bag. Draining her cup, she left it on the counter and headed upstairs to Dave's room.

Silently entering Dave's room, Mindy wondered if she should do something to test his reflexes and determine how fast he could get into a combat mode after waking up. Then she decided against that, according to the paper, they had bigger things to worry about.

Mindy looked about the room. It hadn't changed much since the time she and her dad first entered in through the window the night she and Dave first met when she took out Rasul's drug den.

Thinking back to that night, Mindy had to smile. Dave had been a helpless lamb who had come within an inch of the slaughter that night. He'd come a long, long way since then. Of course, he'd only been there to try and straighten out a problem Katie Deuxma (and Mindy again had to suppress her gag reflex at the thought) had with Rasul. Somehow she thought Rasul was some sort of lost soul who needed some attention. Puh-lease! In Mindy's opinion, drug dealers like Rasul belonged in one of two places: the morgue or Attica (Sing Sing, Green Haven, Elmira or Clinton were also suitable alternatives). Either choice suited her, although she WAS definitely trying to send more business to the latter since she and Dave had become an official team. Katie had come damn fucking close to getting Dave killed, trying to straighten out her little mess.

Mindy wasn't blind. She could see why Dave was attracted to Katie. However, Katie was clearly out of his league. To be fair, Katie was nice and did mean well. On her part, Mindy had made a concerted effort to get along with Katie. She was surprised that Katie and he had lasted this long. High school relationships weren't known for their striking longevity. On top of that, there was the whole Kick-Ass business. Mindy had to admit that Katie took all of that far better than she would have figured.

Still, even though Mindy did indeed feel sorry that Dave was in the dumps at Katie's moving two time zones west, she honestly thought that it was better this way. It would have happened sooner or later. At least now, Dave wouldn't obsess over seeing an ex at school every day. That would be a definite distraction for him. And in their line of work, distractions were a very, VERY bad thing.

Around Dave's bed were some framed pictures. There was a picture of his mom. Not surprisingly, there were several of him and Katie together. One picture caught her eye. It was a picture of her and Dave that was taken at Atomic Comics. He had one arm around his shoulder, and was pointing at a comic with his other arm. They were both laughing together at what they were reading. Mindy recalled that picture had been taken the previous June when Millard Fillmore High School had let out for the summer. It had been a fun afternoon spent celebrating the start of vacation. The fact that Dave had chosen to frame that picture of the two of them together caused Mindy to feel very warm…and rather tingly. She couldn't figure out why.

She stared intently down at Dave's sleeping form. At that instant, Dave's cellphone went off with his wake-up alarm. Dave groggily pried his eyes open, to catch the sight of Mindy staring down at him, with her head only about twelve inches away. His eyes shot open in shock and he hit his head on the headboard.

"Mindy! What the fuck…?"

"Well, good morning to you too." Mindy deadpanned. "Fuck, you don't seem happy to see me. And I brought you breakfast too." Mindy smirked as she pulled a Met-Rx high protein meal replacement bar out of her jacket pocket and tossed in on the duvet.

"Thanks." Dave said as he adjusted to being awake and steeling himself to get out of his warm bed. He was actually used to Mindy pulling these early morning visits. In truth, he didn't mind them at all.

"Anytime. So, we've got some problems."

"What're you talking about?"

"Read this." Mindy said as she pulled that morning's copy of the_ New York Post. _A glaring headline read "4th Santa Strangled!" and an editorial cartoon on the front page had the image of a not so jolly looking Santa in the middle of a red circle that had a diagonal line through it.

"What the fuck, Mindy? Since when did it become four?"

"Apparently, it became four late last night. It must have been after we finished patrol since we didn't hear a fucking thing on the police scanners. Apparently a corner bell-ringer got strangled in Greenwich Village last night. The body got dragged into an alley and wasn't found until past midnight. Even then, it was a fluke it was found so fast. A guy and his girlfriend left a party and decided to go into an alley to hump standing up by a dumpster. Fuck dude, what type of people would want to do that in public by a dumpster?" Mindy asked with a shake of her head, not noticing the sheepish look on Dave's face as he remembered a time with Katie. "At any rate, Mr & Ms Romantic Locale spotted the stiff between thrusts and moans and called 9-1-1 once they'd pulled their pants back up."

"That's only three."

"Yeah, but they also found another strangle job in a dumpster in SoHo. That one was a guy who'd gone missing on Sunday. He'd been working a Christmas party the artsy types in SoHo were throwing for some kids. He left the party alright, but didn't show up at home that night or at work the next day. They found the body around 9pm last night. So, as I said…I think we've got a fucking problem here."

"No fucking shit! You see what he's doing now?"

"Damn straight. He's starting to take the time and effort to conceal the bodies. He's getting smarter. He's getting bolder."

"He's getting more dangerous."

"Damn fucking straight. So, like I said…"

"We have a problem." Dave finished.

On their arrival at school, things went in their usual way. Dave's arrival was undramatic as it usually was. Mindy, on the other hand, received her usual dose of respect and wariness. After the incident on her first day, where she sent two of the most feared bullies in the school to the hospital, Mindy was rather feared and respected. Nobody, but nobody, ever tried to mess with her. As well, anyone who was perceived as a friend of hers was likewise now untouched by any and all bullies and/or wannabes. The downside, of course, was that Mindy tended to have a hard time making friends outside of Dave's small social circle as people tended to be frightened by her.

The irony, as Dave saw it, was that Mindy was actually a very good natured (if smart-mouthed and fond of bad language) person once someone got to know her. When he'd first introduced her to Todd and Marty, they'd been a bit taken aback by her –due to her age, her self-confidence, and what she'd done to the idiots that had attempted to shake her down for her lunch money. However, in almost no time Mindy was being welcomed into their geek-heavy conversations of whether or not Jason Todd was a better Robin in his original incarnation, or the later one that the readers hated.

Walking up the steps, Dave finally spoke.

"So, you've heard that Katie and her family are off to Denver tomorrow."

Mindy suppressed an urge to roll her eyes and make a gagging motion with her finger. "Yeah, I heard that."

"I was going to go and see her tonight."

"Go ahead."

"I don't know what time we would meet up afterwards." Dave said quietly, wary as to what he said in the public environment of the school.

"Shit, don't worry about it." Mindy said with a sigh. She'd already figured on patrol tonight as a write-off. She knew Dave would want to go and see Katie. If she was objective, she knew she couldn't really blame him for wanting to see her one last time. She thought that maybe Marcus would appreciate them having dinner and watching a DVD together that evening. As well, she really wanted to spend some quiet time thinking about the strangler case that was clearly becoming bigger than either of them thought it was initially.

That afternoon, Dave found himself knocking on a familiar door. It opened, to reveal Katie dressed in some jeans and a Fillmore High sweatshirt.

"Dave." she gushed as she pulled him into a kiss.

"Hi."

"Come on in." she said as she led him into the house. It was strewn with boxes. Katie and her mom were starting their drive out to Denver the next morning. Their possessions would be shipped out afterwards. "You're coming to the party later on, aren't you?"

"Party?"

"Some of the girls are throwing a going-away party. You have to come."

"Uh, sure." Dave said, as he quivered at the thought of Katie and her friends getting all weepy over each other. At least Mindy wouldn't be there. He was quite certain she would vomit at how Katie and her friends carried on. On the other hand, Mindy being there would certainly make him laugh. Some of the things she said tended to horrify people who didn't know her, but usually just got a smile out of Dave.

Katie led Dave up to her room. He looked around the place. It held a lot of memories for him. It was here that he'd dropped the double-bombshell on her by revealing that he was Kick-Ass…and he wasn't gay. Needless to say, she'd been shocked by both revelations. It was also the place where he and Katie had sex for the first time.

"So…" he started as he searched for something reasonably cool to say. "All set for Colorado?"

"Definitely! My mom is so excited. It's such an opportunity for her."

"What's her new job going to be again?"

"She's going to be head of the Psychology Faculty at the University of Denver."

"Oh yeah. So, think you'll go there for college?"

"Maybe. I was thinking of Stanford. Or maybe Berkeley."

"That's cool."

"Dave."

"Yeah?"

"You don't really want to talk about colleges. Do you?" Katie asked with an arched eyebrow.

"What else do you want to do?" Dave asked. He knew that she really didn't like hearing about stuff he did as Kick-Ass. The potential for danger distressed her.

In answer, Katie smiled at him and lifted off her sweatshirt.

Dave's breath caught. He really wasn't expecting this to happen. He definitely had been hoping for it, but hadn't expected it. He stripped off his own shirt and t-shirt. Katie smiled in admiration at how much more muscle Dave had added to his formerly lanky frame in the last year –courtesy of his intense training with both weights and Mindy. She pulled off her jeans to reveal and waited for Dave to ditch his own pants, as well as his shoes and socks. He pulled Katie into a kiss as they awkwardly stumbled over to her bed.

Katie removed her bra, while Dave tugged down his boxer-briefs. Finally, they both pulled off Katie's panties. Katie lay down on her bed and pulled Dave down on top of her. Katie reached over to her nightstand, where they kept the condoms. As she pulled one out of the box, Dave found he had to ask the question.

"Katie, not that I'm complaining, but what are we doing here?"

Katie just smiled and detached a condom from the strip. "I thought we could have some friendly bon-voyage sex." Dave thought for a second. That seemed as good enough a reason as any for him as Katie ripped open the condom wrapper.

Three hours afterwards, Dave and Katie had gotten out of the shower together and were getting ready to head off to her farewell party with "the girls". Dave steeled himself for the event. Of all of Katie's girlfriends, Erika Cho –Marty's girlfriend- was about the only one he was really comfortable around or could honestly say that he was friends with independent of Katie. To be honest, most of Katie's friends were a lot cooler and popular than Dave's circle of friends. Erika aside, none of Katie's friends were friends with Dave's social circle. Even Katie always seemed an odd-person out when they hung out at Atomic Comics. Sure she made an effort to fit in and did read up on a lot of comics for his sake. But, she never seemed to really belong with them. Mindy, of course, fit in perfectly from the minute Dave introduced her to the group. Age difference aside, she was a natural part of their social circle.

Dave finished drying himself off and began redressing. He smiled as he looked at Katie's still nude form.

"God, I wish you weren't moving."

"I know Dave. But, it can't be helped."

"I know. But I'm going to miss you."

"You know I'm going to miss you too."

"Katie."

"Yes?"

"Do you ever think you'd come back here for college? I mean, there's NYU, Columbia, Fordham. They all have good psychology departments, don't they?" Katie looked pensive for a moment as she began to get dressed.

"Have you ever thought of going somewhere else, when you graduate? Have you thought about going out west anywhere for college?"

"No, not really." Dave admitted.

"Why not?"

"Well…" he began as he tried to properly word his reasons for not really wanting to leave New York City.

"Dave…sweetie…it's because of you're being Kick-Ass, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Dave admitted sheepishly.

"Well, that's sort of the reason why I'm reluctant to come back here for college."

"What're you talking about?"

"Dave…I do love you. You know that right?"

"Yeah."

"So, please understand I'm telling you this with love and good intentions."

"Tell me what?"

"Dave…you're an addict."

"What? I'm not an addict! I don't do drugs! I don't…"

"No. You're not doing drugs or booze, or anything like that. But you are an addict. I saw them all the time at the needle exchange. You're an addict. You're addicted to the life you're leading as Kick-Ass."

"What? No I'm not!"

"Come on," Katie said gently and without any real bitterness. "How long did you stay retired from being Kick-Ass? Two months? You couldn't stay away from it. I was watching you and Mindy back then. You two always looked restless and edgy."

"Mindy is…"

"Mindy is the same as you are. I just think she'd be far more likely to admit it. I mean, look at the two of you. You both totally get off on what you do. You lead secret double-lives. You wear masks and costumes. You go out at night and act out comic book fantasies. The two of you take the law into your own hands on a daily basis. It's the ultimate power trip and fantasy realization combined. I can completely understand why you'd get addicted to it. But, the fact remains that both of you are."

"But, you know about Mindy's dad."

"Yeah, I do. But, you have to admit that he was insane. I mean, he definitely had a legitimate grudge against those mobsters –it was terrible what they did to his life- but the plan he came up with was insane. And to bring Mindy into it as his sidekick, you don't think that was at all crazy?" Dave had to think about that a little. He clearly recalled Mindy leading them back to the apartment she and Damon had been living in, right after her father's death. Through the mental haze of the beating he'd received as well as his own near brush with death, he'd been stunned to see the countless firearms lining the walls, as well as the detailed plans of the D'Amico building. Damon Macready had clearly not been just a man wanting to be a superhero. He was a man with an extreme blood vendetta. Dave had often wondered, in the last year, what Damon would have done if he'd lived to see the end of the D'Amico crime family. He'd built his life –and Mindy's- around one goal. What would he have done once that was accomplished? He honestly didn't think he could just go off somewhere and live a quiet life with Mindy. Dave suspected he'd have either completely fallen apart, or he would have found a new enemy to focus on.

"Dave, you and Mindy are as addicted to being Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl as thoroughly as any heroin or crack addict is to drugs. It's in your system for good. I don't think you can get it out of you. And together, the two of you enable and empower each other to keep on with what you're doing."

"I can't let her go out there alone, Katie. I'm the reason her dad's dead."

"Dave, you know that's not true. She doesn't think it's your fault. She doesn't hold you responsible. I overheard her tell you that herself." Dave remembered that as well. In her initial pain at her dad's death, Mindy had said that Dave was the reason he'd died. Afterwards, she'd apologized to him for saying that and made it clear she didn't blame him. Dave recalled being really awed at that –Mindy, as a rule, wasn't big on apologies.

"She'd still go out there alone. I can't let anything happen to her Katie. She's…She's my partner. She's my best friend."

"I know Dave. I'm not criticizing the loyalty you two have to each other. But you have to admit that neither of you really wants to give up being what you are."

"We're doing some good out there, you know. We're helping people. Look at all these other superheroes who've shown up in the last year. We're an inspiration."

"I know that too, Dave. I know you two have done a lot of good. I think that's why I've been able to handle it all this last year. You two have saved people. You've stopped crime. Everytime I would worry about you going out at night, doing God knows what, I'd just think that you were helping people. But, I remember everytime you'd come back here, or I'd go over to your place and we'd get undressed I would look over your body and see the bruises and scrapes you'd have. I'd force myself not to think about what you'd been doing when you got them. I just thought that it all meant that you were doing some good somewhere"

"Katie, I…"

"It's alright, Dave. I know you always tried to cover up any danger you went through. And, I didn't want to be some screaming, helpless, Vicki Vale type of wench who can't handle being the girlfriend of a superhero. But Dave, what you and Mindy do is dangerous. And neither of you wants to give it up, or is even capable of doing so if you did. Unless you two are both really lucky, or very good, you're both likely to come to a bad end. And, I'm not strong enough to keep waiting for that to happen. If I came back here for college, I know I'd get back together with you again. And then, the worry and torment would start up all over again. I'm sorry Dave, but I'm not that strong."

Dave absorbed Katie's words calmly. He had to admit to himself that perhaps her moving and their relationship ending this way was for the best. He knew he would have been hurt –hell, he'd have gone to pieces- if she'd broken up with him later on when she finally reached her limit in what she could handle in sharing their romantic life with the crimefighting life of Kick-Ass.

"I could give up being Kick-Ass." Dave said, although in his heart he didn't mean it.

"No, you can't Dave. Like I said, it's your addiction. It's your crack. What's more, it hurts to say this, but a big part of me doesn't think you should. It's like…your calling. It's like what Spock said to Kirk in _Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan…"_

"Best _Star Trek _movie ever." Dave interjected absently.

"I totally agree. But, remember what Spock said to Kirk? Spock said that for Kirk, commanding a starship was his first best destiny. Dave, I really think that for you, being a crimefighter is your first best destiny. You and Mindy…You two seem to have a real gift for what you do."

"Really?"

"Dave, Mindy has always struck me as someone who doesn't give out praise very lightly. If she says you had potential even when you started out and that you're getting really good now…I'd take her at her word." Katie said with a smile. In truth, she was a little jealous of the closeness that existed between Dave and Mindy. She'd been Dave's girlfriend, his lover, for well over a year. Yet in so many ways, she wasn't nearly as close to him as Mindy Macready. Dave and Mindy just seemed to connect better with each other than either did with anyone else. If she and Dave could have connected that well, she suspected that she might indeed have decided to return to New York City for college and been able to endure her worries about his safety. Fate, apparently, had decided on a different outcome. Katie figured it was all for best best.

"So where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us leaving things between us in a good place. If you ever do decide you can leave Kick-Ass behind you, maybe things could be different. But I don't think you can. So for now, let's just go to the party and enjoy tonight." Katie said with a smile.

Dave smiled back as he realized the truth in her words. "Yeah, you're right. Let's have this one night together." He said as he took her hand, now that she'd finished pulling her clothes on.

Katie led the two of them down the stairs and out the door for their last evening together as a couple. Dave's thoughts were jumbled as he recalled Katie's words. He was glad the two of them were leaving their relationship in a good place. However, he couldn't forget her words about him and Mindy being addicted to being costumed crimefighters. He never thought they were addicted to it. He'd always reasoned that they could both give it up anytime they wanted to…they just didn't want to just yet. Maybe he should discuss it with Mindy when he finally got home. It didn't strike him as odd that his first instinct was to talk to Mindy. Nor did it occur to him the fact that while Katie's leaving was leaving him saddened but accepting; however if Mindy were to depart from his life he would be completely and permanently devastated.


	4. Chapter 4

_Greetings dear readers. Well, as I promised, here's Chapter IV of the story._

_This turned out WAY longer than I planned. I guess it's a good thing I did end up separating the chapters. LOL_

_I tried to include a good deal more of Dave/Mindy interaction as well as some more action scenes, humour and some detective work as well._

_In the Todd/Marty conversation I tried to slip in some expositionary dialogue as to how people might know Hit-Girl's name since Mindy isn't one to really talk to the media or bystanders._

_The "Dick In a Box" reference by Marty comes from _Saturday Night Live_ and was first written by Andy Samberg, Akiva Schaffer, Jorma Taccone, Asa Taccone, Katreese Barnes, and Justin Timberlake._

_As everyone all knows by now, reviews are my drug and I'm hoping you'll feed my addiction. :-D_

_I hope everyone enjoys this. :-D_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part IV

Mindy sat back in her booth at Atomic Comics that Friday evening, sipping her dark roast coffee. Marcus had been called in to work when another sergeant had gone home early with the flu. So, after dinner, Mindy had decided to go over to the comic book store.

Luckily for her, Todd and Marty were in the store, as they clearly had nothing better to do on a Friday night. After perusing the latest issues, they picked up their beverages and headed over to Mindy's booth.

"Hey Mindy" They chorused.

"Hi guys" Mindy replied absently as she was looking at a newspaper article with the latest on the strangler.

"We kind of thought you'd be here."

"You did?"

"Well, Katie's leaving for Denver tomorrow." Todd said helpfully, not noticing Mindy rolling her eyes at hearing that piece of news…again.

"So I keep hearing."

"Well, we figured Dave would be at the going-away party her friends are throwing for her tonight. That's where Erika is now." Marty added.

"And that connects to me being here because…?"

"Well, you usually hang out with Dave. He's with Katie tonight. So, we thought…"

"You thought that with Dave going Edward Cullen-pussyish at Katie's bon-voyage party, I wouldn't have anything more fun to do than to sit here alone checking out the comics?" Mindy asked sarcastically in a tone that could often cause fear in the foolish types who vexed her.

"Sorry Mindy, why are you here then?" Marty asked cautiously.

"I actually don't have anything better to do tonight." Mindy said with a sigh. She could have trained, but she preferred training with Dave. He caused her to stay on her toes more and they wound up pushing each other further. In Dave's absence, Mindy had settled on going for a run before dinner and came here afterwards. Sarcasm aside, she was glad for Todd and Marty's company. They were geeks, but they were geeks who she counted as her friends. Of course, she in no way considered herself part of the cool crowd at school. In truth, she liked being a part of Dave's social circle and was glad Todd and Marty had accepted her as a friend.

"It's too bad Katie's moving out to Denver." Todd said absently.

"Yeah, isn't it just too damn bad?" Mindy said with a sweetness so forced she was amazed that neither of the guys picked up on it.

"Dave's taking it a lot better than we thought he'd be, you know." Marty added.

"He is?"

"Yeah, I mean when we heard about it, we all thought he'd in the corner over there curled up and reading comics by Frank Miller." Todd said.

"Totally dude. Instead, he's walking around. He's functioning. He's talking with us about whether or not Grant Morrison is any good or not." Marty chipped in. "It's like he's got other stuff on his mind that's more important."

"What? More important than Katie –'I'm such a fucking girl I can't tell Hush from Harley Quinn'- Deuxma?" Mindy said with a roll of her eyes.

"Totally! Say, you two hang out all the time. Doesn't he ever tell you what could be more important?"

"Sorry guys. One of the rules I live by is to never ask Dave where he places Katie in terms of the grand scheme of things. It's a rule right up there with my rule of seeking professional help if I ever look at poster of Justin Bieber and somehow don't have an urge to vomit."

"Ok Mindy. We get the picture." Marty laughed. "Hey Todd, here's five bucks. Think you can get us all another round of coffee? It's my treat." Marty said with a knowing nod at Todd.

"Sure thing dude, you guys want the usual?" At seeing nods, he rose up and made his way to the barrista counter.

"You wanted to talk to me alone?" Mindy asked with a knowing glance.

"Yeah, I needed your advice. I didn't want Todd to hear because he'd spill it."

"Spill what?"

"Erika's Christmas present. I'm trying to figure out what to get her. I thought I could talk to you about it. I mean, you're a girl."

"Well, when I showered earlier, I looked downstairs. There was no tunk and no surprise, so I guess you figured it right." Mindy deadpanned as Marty laughed.

"Come on, you know what I mean. What should I get her?"

"Marty, you've known me for how long? You do know that I'm not exactly the fucking poster child for fashion or make-up. You honestly can't find anyone better to help you?" Mindy asked in amazement that she was somehow a source of wisdom for him. She'd never considered herself to be a girly-girl. Clothes were just something she had to wear. Her choices for shoes depended on comfort and durability, not trendiness, style or colour (aside from her default preference for purple). She had no clue about make-up. And as for her hair, she'd changed her earlier pigtails over to letting her hair just hang straight and loose –when it wasn't pulled into a bun to be concealed beneath her purple wig, that is. Now, if Marty was looking to get Erika something in the way of firearms or throwing knives –THEN she would be the person to go to for help. Still, she really hated to turn him down. "Well, what did you get her last year?"

"Um, some perfume, a romance novel and D.I.B." Marty said proudly.

"D.I.B.? What the fuck is that?"

"Dick In a Box." Marty replied as Mindy nearly choked on her drink in hearing it.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Talking. About?" Mindy asked in a blunt tone that was far too close to Hit-Girl's "Show's over, motherfuckers!" growl than she would have liked.

"It's from that _Saturday Night_ _Live_ thing with Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg. You know, Step One, I cut a hole in a box…" Marty began to hum the tune of the infamous skit's song.

"Stop! I don't fucking want to know about Step Two. And I sure as shit don't even want to think about Step Three. Are you fucking shitting me? You seriously fucking did that?" Mindy asked with a disbelieving tone.

"Yup"

"And how'd she take it?" Mindy asked in an aghast tone.

"I thought you didn't want to hear the details…"

"The IDEA, not whatever the hell she did with your junk dude!"

"Ahhh. Well, it was after a big Christmas party and she'd had a lot of rum egg-nogg. She seemed ok with it. Think I should do it again?"

"Hell to the NO!" Mindy said adamantly. Fuck, if that was something he considered a good idea, clearly her help was needed. She couldn't possibly do worse. Apparently Hit-Girl's work was never done. She couldn't imagine a guy actually thinking of giving a girl a real gift like that and believing it could be anything close to an appropriate gift. Erika must have completely fucking wasted not to have flipped a shit when Marty did that. Mindy knew she would have reached for one of her Benchmade Model 42 Balisong knives if someone pulled that with her. She suppressed a chuckle at the idea of Dave doing that with Katie. For some reason, her thought process segued over to Dave doing that with HER. Instead of disgust, Mindy felt something…else at the idea. It was that tingly thing again. She shook her dead dismissively. Her help was clearly needed here.

"Alright Marty, you've convinced me. Next week, we'll go out and hit the stores to try and get you something *good* to give to Erika.

"You mean it? Aw, thanks Mindy."

"Don't mention it. By the way, what about Todd over there," Mindy nodded towards their other friend who had finally been served and was placing their mugs on a tray. "Any girls that he's interested in that I need to spare from receiving the most fucking inappropriate gift in history?"

"Nah, he's been striking out lately. He's probably still saving himself."

"He's saving himself? Who the fuck is he saving himself for?" Mindy asked as she upended her mug to have the last of her coffee.

"Hit-Girl" Marty replied simply as Mindy choked and damn near did a classic spit-take.

"I beg your fucking pardon." Mindy gasped as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Todd watched that streaming video where Hit-Girl showed up and blew away those gangsters and totally saved Kick-Ass. You know, where she looked at the camera and said 'Show's over motherfuckers!' before shooting it out. Todd said right then and there that he was in love with her and was going to save himself for her."

"Wow, how sweet of him." Mindy said with an effort.

"What's sweet?" Todd asked as he returned to the table at long last.

"You're one-sided love affair with Hit-Girl, dude." Marty laughed.

"What're you laughing at man?"

"Come on dude, she's got to be what age now? 12? 13? Shit, you didn't even know what she was called until she started working with Kick-Ass. I mean someone overheard him call her that when they stopped a mugging and that was the first anyone knew her name."

"She's getting older man. You read what some people on those message boards say about her." Todd said. Mindy had glanced over those message boards once or twice out of sheer morbid curiosity. There were definitely a lot of sick fucks around, and who apparently had a lot of time on their hands to spend it posting their Hit-Girl based fantasies on the internet. Mindy sometimes wished she had enough time and a big-ass fucking meat cleaver. She would pay those perverts a visit and help control the stray animal population in the city by neutering each and every one of them. She thought it could only help the planetary gene pool.

"Fuck man, even if she's getting older, she's totally out of your league."

"Why the fuck is that?"

"Come on dude, can you imagine Hit-Girl of all people talking to you? Come on Mindy, tell him he's nuts."

Mindy, who was biting her cheek at the joke only she was getting, said diplomatically "Todd, there are tons of girls around here that would be interested in you. I think Hit-Girl would be busy with other stuff."

"Yeah…I guess you're right. She's probably fucking Kick-Ass after all."

"What?" Mindy asked with what she hoped was a casual curiosity.

"She and Kick-Ass are always together. They're a guy and a girl working as a team. They have to be screwing each other. They're like Hawkman and Hawkgirl, or Batman and Catwoman."

"Dude, that's not nearly as crazy as you wanting Hit-Girl. What do you think Mindy? Do you think Hit-Girl is tapping Kick-Ass?"

Mindy raised her fresh coffee mug, so they wouldn't see the strange expression she had on her face as she answered. "Stranger shit has happened." That was fucking crazy, she thought. Come on: Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass, her and Dave, having sex? That was fucking nuts…wasn't it? Her thought process was disrupted by the sound of a text message arriving. She realized it wasn't her usual cell phone. It was the special cell phone, designated solely for use by Hit-Girl for patrol work.

She picked up the phone and looked at the text. It was from one of her street informants. She and Dave had put the word out that they wanted information on the strangler murders that were going on. According to the text, their informant had some information for them and wanted to meet the two of them later that night, after midnight.

Mindy smiled to herself. She was going to drop by Dave's after all tonight.

Dave quietly entered his room just past 11pm. The bon-voyage party had gone as well as he'd expected. There had been a lot of emotional goodbyes and a lot of weeping. He and Katie had left things on a good note. Right now, he just wanted to do something productive. Maybe he'd go down to the cellar and work on the heavy punching bag a little.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a vibration on his belt and a familiar song was heard. It was the song "Bad Reputation", by Joan Jett. He knew instantly who was calling. That song was the assigned ring tone to only one person. He removed his Nokia from his belt holster and put it to his ear.

"Hey Mindy"

"Shit dude, it took you long enough to get home."

"Well, what can I say?"

"Beats the hell out of me, but I know what I can say. I can say that I've got some information on the case."

"What? The strangler?"

"We don't have any other big cases on at the moment, last time I checked the Bat Computer."

"Want me to come on over to your place and we can work something out?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

"Huh?"

"Look out your window, Sherlock."

Guessing ahead of time what he was going to see, Dave looked out and saw Mindy seated out on the garage roof, with her cell phone in her hand and her endearingly familiar smirk on her face. Dave sighed with a grin and opened the window for his partner to come in.

"How long were you waiting?"

"Actually, I got there just as I saw you were going into the house."

"What do we have?"

"I got a text earlier from Sammy the Snitch." Mindy said plainly. Sammy was one of the network of street informants they'd cultivated over the last year. He was fortunate in the first letter of his given name, as most of their informants were similarly titled 'the Snitch'. Sammy carried a reputation as being one of their more reliable ones. What's more, he had a rather severe disliking for violence. He was what was colloquially referred to as a 'rent boy' and thus had much to fear from street predators. Dave and Mindy had saved him from an attack the previous March. In addition to giving his attackers a need for much orthopedic and dental work, they'd put the word out that anyone who messed with Sammy would get a visit from the duo –with Hit-Girl bringing her feared double bo-staff along. That was enough to secure his protection from most anyone who would cause him serious trouble. In exchange, he had proven to be a most resourceful and reliable set of eyes and ears on the street. What's more, with his own dislike of violent predators, he made a special effort to glean information on any sort of sick bastard like the one they were apparently dealing with.

"What did he say?"

"He said that he heard somebody acting really weird last Sunday night in SoHo. He thinks it could be connected to the stranglings."

"That's pretty thin."

"Thin? Shit, it's anorexic. But, what the fuck do we, or the cops for that matter, have to go on?"

"Not much, I'll admit. Aw, what the hell. Let's meet up with him." Dave said. Let me get changed. Do you want to use the bathroom to change, or did you already…?"

"I'm suited up and good to go." Mindy said as she undid her jacket and revealed that she was wearing her costume on underneath her street clothes. Only the fact it was the start of December allowed her to do that. They'd learned from experience that was a comic book cliché that they could only get away with in the late autumn or winter. In the warmer months, it simply got far too hot for them to do that and not risk heat exhaustion and dehydration.

"You are too cool for school." Dave chuckled as he gave her a high-five. Mindy looked at him strangely. He seemed far too cheerful for a guy whose girlfriend was permanently leaving for the Rocky Mountains in less than eight hours.

"What the hell are you on? You're about as perky as Todd and Marty are when the new comics come into the store. It's like…Holy fuck! You fucking had sex with her tonight, didn't you? She's leaving tomorrow. What's up with that?"

"Um, it was friendly bon-voyage sex." Dave said with a grin as he withdrew his costume, mask and boots from the closet and headed for the bathroom to change. "It was sex. I mean, I couldn't really pass up sex."

"If your hormones had a face, I would punch them." Mindy said with a shake of her head as she removed her wig, a hairnet, mask and gloves from her bag.

An hour later, Dave and Mindy were secluded in the shadows by Grand Army Plaza at Prospect Park. A wind had begun to blow in off the Atlantic and it was a cold one. Dave and Mindy, forced to remain relatively still were starting to get cold.

"Fuck, where the hell is he? My ears are starting to freeze." Mindy growled as she rubbed them with her gloved hands.

Dave, at least was wearing his full mask which served as a rather effective makeshift ski-mask. On other hand, he didn't have a cape which Mindy was using to wrap around herself. He was rubbing his upper arms vigorously to try and keep warm. Mindy took note.

"Hey, crouch down next to me." Mindy whispered.

"What for?" Dave asked as he complied and crouched down next to her.

"Here" she replied as she draped part of her cape around his shoulder as well as her own, giving her partner a brief respite from the raw Atlantic wind. Dave reached his own arm around her to share his own body heat with her under the makeshift windbreak.

"Thanks" Dave said with a smile.

"Anytime" Mindy replied with a brief smile of her own, as the two huddled close together under her cape.

"If I'd known that wind was going to pick up like it has, I'd have put my long underwear on."

"You mean your Bat-thermal longjohns?" Mindy said with a smirk.

"They work against Mr. Freeze. Batman's lucky. He has the cape AND a cowl to keep warm. I wonder how Robin kept warm. I mean, the Dick Grayson Robin in the old costume with the shorts."

"It beats the hell out of me. Maybe he wore tights in the winter. I could never figure out why he'd wear those dumb green pixie boots. I can't see how you run in those things."

"They're probably not too bad in warm weather though. Hey, remember when we got that guy who was trying to rob that ice cream truck back during that heat wave in July?"

"Oh fuck, I thought we were going to die that week. Shit, it was 90 degrees at night, not counting the humidity."

"I guess that guy thought that robbing the ice cream truck would be a good score."

"Fuck, he probably realized he made a mistake when we tag-teamed him, beat the shit out of him, threw him into that dumpster, and shut him in."

"Oh Christ, that dumpster smelled bad from the *outside*."

"The inside was even worse. Marcus told me that the patrol car that brought the douchebag in had to be fumigated three separate times before the police union rep would allow it be used again." Mindy said with a nostalgic chuckle.

"The ice cream guy was sure grateful to us."

"He must have been. He gave us each a chocolate dipped cone and a cold drink."

"Those really tasted good in that heat."

"Damn straight. Hey, I think I see Sammy coming." Mindy said. To her surprise, she felt herself wishing he'd been a few more minutes arriving. She'd been rather enjoying the discussion and peaceful closeness with Dave.

"Do you want me to do the talking?"

"Nah, I think I'll take care that. You do that raspy Bat-voice bit and you scare him away again."

"Take it away then." Dave said as Mindy stood up and crept towards the light beneath the arch where Sammy was waiting.

"What do you have for us, Sammy?" Mindy asked in her own trademark Hit-Girl growl.

"Oh my God Hit-Girl, you scared me!" Sammy practically screamed at hearing Mindy's voice and seeing her emerge from the shadows.

"It comes with the territory. We strike fear into the hearts of evil-doers. Sometimes we throw the fear around too much. So, sorry for fucking scaring you and what do you have for us?"

"Oh, it's about these dreadful Santa Claus stranglings."

"We kind of figured you wouldn't drag us out for a litterbug."

"Well, last Sunday I was engaged to go to a party in SoHo. Some sculptors from the Europe were in town. Their tastes rather ran to the exotic, but still I was able…"

"The point please, Sammy."

"Well, I was at this bar earlier. I was nervous about meeting the clientele, so I thought a nice Manhattan might do me some good. I'm sitting there, having my drink and this rough looking chap starts making noise from where he's sitting. He starts yelling at the TV that was playing. He was yelling –oh pardon my French- 'You fat fuck, you ruined my family!' and 'I'm gonna kill all of you!' It was completely insane. He was just yelling it at the television."

"Was there something on the television that set him off?"

"I really think it was."

"What was it?"

"It was a commercial for Christmas sales. The commercials had a Santa Claus in them and he just went off like you wouldn't believe. Before, when the ballgame was on, he was calm as anything. But that commercial came on, with a Santa Claus in it, and it was like someone had thrown a switch."

"What time was this?"

"It was about 7:30, or so. I read in the paper today that the poor fellow killed on Sunday was last seen around 4pm, or so. It was only a few blocks away though. And, I also got the distinct impression this fellow had been at the bar for quite some time."

"Why do you say that?" Mindy asked as she fought to keep her expression neutral. If what Sammy was telling her was true, this was a major break in the case.

"Well, the bartender told him that he'd been sitting there since that game started –and that was around 5pm, wasn't it? He said that the fellow had had enough and he was calling him a cab."

"Did you know what cab company he called?" Mindy asked with trepidation. It would be a difficult chore for her and Dave to track down cab drivers to canvas them about fares picked up the previous Sunday. Unlike the police, they didn't have credentials that could often encourage people to talk.

"I have no idea."

"Fuck"

"But, I do know where he was going."

"Are you shitting me?"

"Of course not, he called out the address to the bartender quite clearly when the man was on the phone with the cab company. He said it was where his sister lives. This is the address." Sammy said as he handed Hit-Girl a folded, neatly printed piece of paper. It listed an address in Greenwich Village.

"Sammy, you have outdone yourself tonight." Mindy said with some genuine admiration. It was touches like this that elevated Sammy to the top-tier of the informant network she and Dave used.

"Would you like to know a little bit more?"

"Are you serious?"

"Well, I'm going to spend Christmas with my sister and brother-in-law in Rochester, so I won't be around for a couple of weeks. I thought I'd give you some extra stuff now." Sammy said with a sly smile.

"Let me have it."

"Oh, I could make a dirty joke there but I won't." Sammy laughed. "As I was saying, this fellow said aloud that he'd better get to his sister's place fast. She works as cocktail waitress and if she leaves before he gets there, he'll be stuck outside waiting until she gets home at 2am. So, if you go over there now you might just catch her when she's getting home."

"Sammy…We really want to thank you big time for this one."

"Oh, don't mention it." Sammy said as he stooped down to tie a shoelace that had come undone. "After what you two did…" his voice trailed off as he looked up from his shoe to see that Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass (who he'd noticed standing off in the shadows) had both disappeared. They're getting really good at that, he noticed.

Dave drove the one-time Mistmobile (they were still trying to think of a new name for the car) over the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan. Things had become much easier for them since he'd gotten his license. It was rather disconcerting whenever Mindy did the driving. Not that she wasn't skilled, but the fact she –at least back when they first acquired the car- could barely see over the steering wheel made Dave feel like they were sticking out like a sore thumb to any other motorist.

Mindy, in the passenger seat, was busy operating the iPhone on the dashboard. She was typing the address into the phone company's reverse telephone directory –another tidbit taught to her by Damon.

"Ok, we've got a hit. Colleen O'Doyle. Let's see if there's anything from Google." Mindy typed a little bit more. "Hey, we got something from MySpace. Her profile says that she works nights as a cocktail waitress while she's going to grad school at Columbia, working on her Master's degree apparently. Here's her picture."

Dave spared a glance over to the screen and saw a picture of an attractive young woman with very pale skin, red hair and freckles. He nodded that he'd gotten a look and refocused on his driving again.

"Do you think that her brother is connected to any of this?" He asked as they came off the bridge onto Centre Street.

"We should find out soon enough." Mindy said as Dave turned the former Mistmobile towards Greenwich Village.

Fifteen minutes later, Dave and Mindy were perched on a ledge by the entrance to Colleen O'Doyle's apartment. A cursory glance in the window had indicated she wasn't home yet. So, they set about waiting.

Mindy looked down the street towards where the local subway exit was. She raised her night lenses and looked again. She spotted a woman that matched the picture from the computer. She was walking down the street towards her building. She was wearing a Columbia University jacket and was carrying a large shoulder bag that seemed to contain books as well as a change of clothes. Mindy noticed something else as she looked. A pair of thuggish looking lowlifes who'd noticed the attractive redhead walk past them and swung in step behind her. She was too tired to notice her surroundings and the still gusting wind effectively muffled their footfalls. Mindy felt Dave grab her arm.

"Mindy, do you see those two guys?" Mindy smiled at Dave noticing them so swiftly.

"Damn straight. I think they're just the type of retards who would try something this late at night."

"They'll probably try and grab her when she's reaching for her keys at the door. She'll be distracted and preoccupied looking into her purse. And she won't have anywhere to run if they've got her pinned at the door."

Mindy smirked at him approvingly. "That's impressive. That's VERY impressive. I think you got it all right. You only missed the detail about what's going to happen when they try that shit at the door. You missed just who is going to stop them from trying their little thug story."

"I'm handling them solo?"

"Damn straight."

Dave sighed and forced himself to focus. "Alright…These fuckers are mine." He stood and leapt smoothly to the ground. Mindy stood and looked at the door, preparing herself to take action if something went amiss.

Colleen O'Doyle's long night had taken a turn for the worse. As she was reaching in her bag for her door keys, she heard a noise behind her. Turning around, she saw two brutish looking hoodlums standing on the steps, pinning her in. They smiled salaciously at her.

"Hey babe, what's the rush? My bro and I were thinking you'd like to party with us."

"Uh…no thanks."

"We'se really ain't requesting red. Whatsamatter? Why don't you wanna par-tay wid us?"

"Maybe she's got some fucking taste." A voice spoke from behind. Colleen and the two hoodlums turned around and saw a figure in a green wetsuit and mask standing on the steps in the shadows. He took a step forward and they could see who it was.

"Kick-Ass? Thank God!" Colleen gasped.

"Fuck man!" Hoodlum Number 1 shouted out.

"OK, you lime-coloured mother fucker, prepare to die!" Hoodlum Number 2 spat at him.

'Prepare to die!'? Is he for real? Dave thought to himself. He honestly didn't think that anybody would actually say that. The only time he'd ever heard that said ANYWHERE was that time he and Mindy watched _Road House_ on DVD. Mindy had declared that the funniest movie she'd seen in a long time –and it wasn't even a comedy. This asshole was lucky he wasn't dealing with Mindy. She would have sent what was left of him to the morgue just for using such a clichéd line. No matter, it was now on like Donkey Kong.

Hoodlum Number 2 came charging down the steps at Dave. That was his first mistake, Dave noted. The jerk was on the high ground. Instead of holding there, he gave into his machismo and attacked. Dave grabbed the fist that shot out at him with his left hand and pulled. The thug's momentum was already carrying him forward. Dave's movement assisted him and his charge turned into an uncontrolled stagger down the steps. Still gripping the hood's wrist, Dave crouched down and pulled the would-be rapist down on his shoulders. Pushing up with his leg muscles, Dave pushed himself up and simultaneously pushed the hoodlum off and down the steps. The piece of trash landed with a painful sounding crunch on the second to last step, followed by more painful sounding cracks as he rebounded off and culminated in slamming into a fire hydrant. Overall, thought Dave as he turned back to the other thug, it looked and sounded like about four or five bones got broken there.

Hoodlum Number 1's attempt to escape this unplanned encounter with a Cape was to launch a kick at his head. As easily as he did when he trained with Mindy, Dave caught the kick and trapped the leg. His lower vantage point on the steps now offered him the perfect tactical position. Keeping the trapped leg extended both prevented Hoodlum Number 1 from doing much aside from hopping to keep his balance. It also opened up his groin for what came next. Dave pulled back his other arm and shot his sap-glove adorned fist out, right into the thug's testicles. The hood emitted a rather piercing scream and he felt his nuts give way under the heavy blow. His supporting leg buckled and he fell forward, towards Dave. Dave gave him another forceful blow, right into his mouth. The hoodlum moaned in pain through his bloody lips and spat out a tooth. Dave tipped him forward down the steps, where he joined his buddy in a crumpled, moaning heap.

On the sidewalk, Mindy stepped forward out of the shadows and surveyed the two hoods. She looked up at Dave and flashed him a brief smile. Then, she turned back to the humbled hoodlums. She pulled one of her Benchmade Model 42 butterfly knives out of a scabbard, along with some wrist ties that they used for handcuffs. These two guys deserved to arranged artfully when the police arrived.

Meanwhile, Dave was trying to calm a –not unexpectedly- freaking out Colleen O'Doyle.

"Kick-Ass…Thank God you were here. I don't know what I would have done. There were two of them and…"

"Not to worry…citizen. We actually have to ask you some questions." Dave said in a staccato delivery that immitated Adam West's vocal patterns. Mindy had suggested he try that rather than his attempt at doing a Christian Bale impersonation. He'd be understood better, as well as allowing some of her father's legacy to live on.

"You do? Oh sure. I owe you that much, at least." Dave nodded to her, and went down the steps to assist Mindy. She was currently using her knives to cut ALL of the two semi-conscious hoods clothing off of their bodies. After that, the one who was slightly more awake was bound to a lamp post with his more unconscious buddy bound on top of them.

"Don't worry about the cold, douchelicks. Your body heat will keep each other warm. Think of it as a rehearsal for the showers at Sing Sing." Mindy smirked at them as she and Dave entered the apartment building with Colleen.

Upon reaching her apartment, luckily without her neighbours spotting her with New York's most respected –and feared by the criminal element- costumed crimefighters, Colleen shut the door and addressed Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl.

"What did you want to ask me?"

"We want to ask you about your brother." Hit-Girl said.

"Harold? Oh my God. What's he done now?"

"He's had some trouble before Miss O'Doyle?" Kick-Ass queried.

"Yes. He's been in trouble before. He's had violent episodes since he was a kid. He's been in and out of psychiatric hospitals for years."

"When did you last see him?"

"I saw him this past Monday. He was brought here in a cab on Sunday night. He'd been drinking at a bar, he said, and they called the cab for him when they thought he'd had enough. He went to sleep on my couch –I'm so glad my roommates were still away for Thanksgiving that night- and left in the morning. I don't even know what his address is now or what his cell phone number is. Please understand, I do love him, but he can get very violent at times. Especially at this time of the year."

"What… do you… mean, 'this time of the year'?" Dave asked cautiously in his Adam West sounding tone.

"Well, I know how strange it sounds, but this is always the time of year that Harold is the worst."

"What do you mean by 'the worst'?"

"I mean, when he can be the most violent. It's when he's just plain crazier than any other time of the year."

"Is there any particular reason for that?" Mindy asked.

"It was when we were kids. Our parents split up in December. Our mom left our dad for another man. Harold came down one morning when our dad had left for work early and saw our mom kissing Paul –that's the name of her second husband. He'd come over in a Santa Claus suit."

"Did you say a Santa Claus suit?"

"A Santa Claus suit, that's right. It's like that dumb song, 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus'. Paul worked part-time as a shopping mall Santa. He came over in his outfit when he knew Dad was out."

"What happened after that?"

"Mom and Dad split up. My Dad got primary custody of my sister and I. We moved to Ithaca. He became a professor at Cornell. Poor Harold lived a lot of the time with Mom and Paul in Hoboken. Paul forced Harold to act as his elf every year when he did his mall Santa gig."

Dave and Mindy looked at each other and exchanged a knowing glance. This guy seemed to practically be wearing a t-shirt labeled "Santa Claus Killer".

"Miss O'Doyle, has anyone else come to talk to you about your brother lately?"

"No, you two are the first."

"I'm afraid that may change." Dave said gently

"What are you…Oh my God, do you think he has anything to do with these Santa Claus killings?"

"We don't know yet."

"Well, I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Do you have a picture of him we could have?"

"This is the most recent one I have." Colleen said as she pulled a wallet-sized photo from her purse. "He looks different now than in the picture. He's thinner and he hasn't shaved in a while, last I saw. Oh, he has a different last name from me as well. Paul and Mom changed his last name to Paul's surname of Heffernan."

"Heffernan?"

"That's right. It's Harold Heffernan."

"Thank you. Your assistance has been most appreciated." Dave intoned as he resumed the staccato tone again.

"Give us five minutes, and then call the police for those two douchenozzles we tied to the lamp post." Mindy said as she walked to the window.

"Hit-Girl…" Dave began.

"…Back to headquarters." Mindy finished as the two of them gracefully exited through the window.

On the way back home, Mindy examined the photo they'd been given. It was of an average looking man in his twenties. He looked like a normal man. His appearance was unremarkable, if a little pudgy. The most striking thing about his was his eyes. They seemed to simply glare out at the camera. They reminded Mindy very much of photos she'd seen of Charles Manson around the time of his trial.

"So, we have a name and a picture. I tried running a computer check on him though. Nothing came up. He's not listed as having any fucking address."

"That doesn't mean a damn thing. He could be crashing with friends, or paying rent under the table to someone."

"I was thinking the same thing myself."

"Do you think he's our guy?"

"Shit, from what his sister said, it sure looks good."

"I think we should pass that on to Marcus. I mean, this guy looks good for it, but there's really no hard evidence on him."

"Yeah, we should tell Marcus, I agree. But Dave, I really get a vibe this is who we're after."

"I'm getting that vibe too, Mindy. But, how the fuck do we track him down? He's one sick needle hiding in a really fucking big haystack."

"It beats the fuck out of me. But, we'll find a way to do it. We're Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. Haven't you heard? We're the best crimefighters in New York City. I guess it's time we showed everyone that we deserve that reputation." Mindy said to Dave with a faint smile on her face as the former Mistmobile raced them home in the early morning hours.


	5. Chapter 5

_Greetings readers. I got such nice feedback for the last chapter that I did this one written in about a day. _

_I hope everyone likes this one as much. BTW, can anyone spot my reference to _The Fugitive_? :-D_

_As you all know, I just LOVE feedback. And, positive feedback makes me want to write and post sooner. :-D massive hints ;-)_

_Enjoy!_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part V

Prospect Park in Brooklyn was slowly being illuminated by the late-rising sun of a December morning began to make its first appearance above the eastern horizon. The cold weather was keeping most people away and home in their beds until the advent of daylight made outdoor activities more palatable. Of course, that was most people, not all of them.

On the park's 3.38 mile running loop, two figures could be made out by the coming dawn's very faint early light. Both were running at a rather fast pace and appeared burdened by packs carried on their backs. To any casual onlooker, the strangest thing was that both runners had black rubber gasmasks on their faces.

The pair came into what was their home stretch and broke into a sprint for the final yards. Bolting past the pre-determined start and finish line, the two slowed to a jog and finally a walk.

Dave, with hands shaking from exhaustion, pulled off his military-grade rubber gas mask and began sucking huge in huge breaths of cold air. Mindy likewise removed her mask with hands that didn't shake only through more experience in the training exercise (and a stubborn refusal to allow her exhaustion to show).

"Holy fuck Mindy, whenever we do this I feel like I'm gonna puke or drop dead, or something." Dave groaned as he dropped the weighted knapsack from his back.

"You're such a pussy, dude." Mindy laughed. "You know how much this builds up your endurance."

"I know, I know." Dave said as he walked around in circles to prevent himself from stiffening up or cramping now that the hard run was completed. "Do you want to do another circuit?" Usually when they finished the circuit (sometimes doing more than one) with the heavy packs and gas masks, they'd do another one without either accoutrement as a working cool-down. Running the distance unencumbered like that always felt amazingly easy in comparison with their previous circuit; it almost felt like flying without the extra weight of the pack and difficulty of drawing air through the gas mask. (Dave laughed at the fact what many people considered a workout on its own, he and Mindy considered it a cool-down.) Dave actually enjoyed the post-workout high he got when they ran. He really liked it when they came here in the summer and ran some of the cross-country trails, or when they went to Coney Island and ran in the soft sand. That was tough, but did amazing things in building their calf muscles. In truth, Dave had come to enjoy just about everything he and Mindy did together.

"Shit, that's the spirit Dave. I'm proud of you." Mindy laughed. She really WAS proud of Dave though. It had gotten so that every challenge she threw at him, he was able to handle –it took effort, but he handled them. He couldn't handle it as smoothly as she could, of course. But, she'd been doing this for more than half her entire life. Dave had been doing it seriously for a little more than a year now. Mindy had to admit that when she factored that in, Dave was doing spectacularly well. She'd been quite correct that he did indeed have potential. And, he was now living up to it. About the only thing Dave could never grasp was trivia about John Woo movies. And then again, that was never a practical part of her training regime. It was more that her dad was a huge John Woo fan and deeply wished that she acquired a taste for Woo's films as well.

"Thanks. So, are we running it again?"

"Nah, I don't think so. We had a really good sparring session earlier. One circuit is enough for this morning. If you want come by after school and do it on your own, you can."

"What about you?"

"I can't."

"Marcus wants you home early, or something?"

"Nope, I'm on a mission of mercy."

"What?"

"I promised Marty I'd go shopping with him so he could pick out a more appropriate Christmas present for Erika. I presume you know what he got her last year?"

"Yeah, Todd and I both knew."

"What the fuck? And you didn't try to talk him out of it?"

"We didn't think there was anything that wrong with it." Dave shrugged as he picked up his gas mask and joined Mindy as they walked back to the bike rack where they'd left their bicycles chained up. He didn't notice the dirty glare Mindy had thrown at him.

"I'm not going to ask you any more about that. I think I'd just get mad and punch you the fuck out or something if I did." Mindy grumbled as they mounted their bicycles to begin the ride back to Dave's house where they would shower and change before school.

"I don't think I'll go again tonight. I've got something else to do?"

"Like what?"

"It's the Strangler case. I had an idea about something last night."

"Fuck, you did? What is it?" Mindy looked over at her partner and friend as they peddled the empty brightening streets. She'd noticed that Dave was putting a lot of mental energy into this case they'd adopted. A few days earlier, she'd descended the steps on the Lizewski basement to find him in front of the computer reviewing files hacked from the New York Police Department's computers. He was totally engrossed in his work. To Mindy, he looked to her like the classic comic book images of Batman, where Bruce Wayne was oftentimes secluded in the Batcave trying to find a solution to a crime. Dave's dad had told her that after finishing his homework, he'd secluded himself in the basement and hadn't stirred for a long while. He'd asked her to either convince him to come up for dinner or bring something down to him. Mindy had convinced him (upon threat of using a pressure-point lock) to come up for dinner. Afterwards, Mindy had noted Casimir's concern over Dave getting too worried about the case and not eating properly. It was almost amusing. If Marcus was to be their Commissioner Gordon, then Dave's dad was surely becoming their Alfred Pennyworth.

"Eh, it could be nothing, Mindy. Just something that's been kicking around in my head. Has Marcus anything new on this Heffernan guy?"

"Nope, there's nothing new. It's the same shit. Guy has a history of violent behavior and psychiatric disorders. He's generally fine, but just goes off when he's triggered. That's just what he got under the table. A security guard at Bellevue is a retired cop who was a training officer when Marcus was a rookie. He gave Marcus that for old time's sake."

"And from what his sister told us, it looks like he's got some fixation on Santa Claus."

"It sure looks like it."

"Fuck Mindy, it's been almost a week and the police don't have anything more on him? No location? No address?"

"Marcus is pissed about that too. He took our information to the detectives on the task force. He said it came from an anonymous source, and they pretty much dismissed him. Marcus said that they're all trying to make points by coming up with their own leads. They don't think some sergeant from the Anti-Crime Unit knows what he's doing when it comes to a murder investigation."

"Shit, that IS good information. We got more in one night than the Strangler Task Force has in two weeks."

"I know it, you know it and Marcus knows it. The trouble is, none of us have gold shields, which apparently means more to the investigation than good leads. Oh, and it gets even fucking better." Mindy said in a voice that dripped with trademark sarcasm.

"It does?" Dave asked as he guessed he wasn't going to be thrilled with his partner's news.

"Fuckin' A. Guess who's decided to jump in with both pairs of polished oxfords?"

"Who?" Dave asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.

"Does the name '**F**lowers **B**y **I**rene' ring a bell for you?"

"The F.B.I.'s gotten involved? Well that's just fucking terrific."

"You fucking said it. According to Marcus, they're crawling all over One Police Plaza with their psychologists and profilers and all the rest who religiously watch _Criminal Minds_ every week and have posters of Mulder and Scully on their walls."

"Hey!" Dave cried with an indignant voice.

"Sorry…I fucking forgot that fistfights can break out at Atomic Comics over what's better, the 'stand alone' episodes or the 'mytharc' episodes." Mindy said with a roll of her eyes. It was actually amazingly funny to be at Atomic Comics to watch when one group of _X-Files_ fans who liked the 'monster of the week' episodes got into an argument with a group who championed the overall 'conspiracy' arc. It was like geek Valhalla. If, as it sometimes did, it escalated to a fistfight (or what passed as a fistfight for the Atomic Comics crowd) it was even funnier. It was almost as good as when _Star Trek: The Next Generation _fans got into a three way fight with fans of the original series and fans of the reboot/alternate timeline. Watching the Trekkies (try to) get physical with one another was far funnier to watch…even if they had to pick up all the asthma inhalers off the floor afterwards.

"Getting back to what I was saying, all these profilers are treating the city detectives like they're a bunch of remedial students who get to spend the day watching the advanced classes. They treated Marcus as pretty much a glorified security guard when he went by with some of the information. It was like 'You're Anti-Crime Unit? That's street crime work? Aw, that's really, really nice. Can you *spell* nice? You go play with your muggers, pickpockets and drug dealers. You can leave the real investigations to us profilers.' Marcus was so fucking pissed afterwards. I mean, we have a solid lead here. But everyone's too busy trying to advance their own fucking careers or covering their ass to even look at it because of where it came from." Mindy said with a disgusted shake of her head as they pulled into Dave's driveway and entered the house to shower and change.

"You mean, they're not going to try and track this Heffernan guy down? Fuck Mindy, they could find him and have in for questioning in a matter of days. If this guy goes off so easily, he'd probably tell them everything at the drop of a hat."

"Shit, you don't think I know that? Again, you know it, I know it and Marcus knows it. The problem is, we're not the right people so nobody cares."

"This guy is going to do it again, while they're primping themselves up and having their turf wars." Dave grumbled as Mindy removed her running shoes and socks, undid her sweat jacket, picked up her bag with her school clothes and headed for the bathroom.

"You know it. And you do know what the worst part is if they don't get him in the next few weeks?"

"Yeah, once Christmas is over there are no more Santa Claus'. There are no more triggers to set him off. He just goes back into the woodwork until…"

"…until next November when it all starts over again." Mindy finished the sentence for him. It was becoming more and more common for them to actually wind up finishing each other's sentences.

"More panic, more mayhem and more dead men whose only mistake was to put on a Santa Claus outfit."

"Damn straight." Mindy called out as the water began to run. "So, what did you have in mind tonight?"

"Well, it occurred to me that Heffernan looks good for it. But, his psychiatric history aside, we don't have anything really on him."

"That's fucking right. Even the stuff Marcus learned can't be used. It came under the table and it's unofficial. The guy's real psychiatric stuff would be protected by confidentiality with his doctors. They wouldn't give anything up without a court order. The Task Force won't try for that because of the source. Shit, even if they did, sometimes judges won't sign anything because they don't like anonymous sources. I'm gonna go out on a fucking limb as say they like us superheroes even less."

"I was thinking the same thing. I thought that the best shot we'd have is to find him and follow him."

"That sounds good." Mindy called over the running water as she showered. "The only question is, how do we find him?" The water then stopped and Dave could hear Mindy stepping out of the shower. She always was fast in the shower when they did their morning workouts before school.

"That's what I'm working on, Mindy. I might have an idea, but I'm not sure if it's any good, or just a bunch of bullshit. I want to look over my stuff later. I'll let you know then." Dave called to her as he stripped his running clothes off and pulled on his bathrobe. The bathroom door opened and Mindy emerged in a purple top and zipping up her jeans.

"I'll be out on my mission to save Erika from another Marty-gift." She said as Dave laughed at her words.

"I'll call you when we're both done. We can meet for coffee and I'll tell you what I'm thinking of." Dave said as he stepped into the bathroom and the sound of the shower running again was soon heard.

"Hey, that sounds good to me. I'll need to do something to get back in the groove after spending a couple of hours in a store looking at girly-gifts." Mindy groaned with a roll of her eyes as she pulled a fresh pair of socks and began to run a brush through her wet hair.

That afternoon, Dave was sequestered away at the computer desk in Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl's secret crimefighting lair, aka his basement. He was going through various police reports taken in the past week that he'd hacked (courtesy of Mindy passing on her knowledge) off the New York Police Department's computers.

There was one report in particular that he was interested in. It was something he'd scanned over a couple of days before. Back then, it hadn't made much of an impression on him. However, the night before he'd been in bed rehashing the facts he and Mindy had acquired so far (He found doing that helped keep his mind off of Katie, as well as making him feel more and more like a real superhero. After all, wasn't that the type of stuff Bruce Wayne thought about when he was lying in bed?). It was then that something clicked for him. He'd gone over it before he fell asleep last night. He'd mentally gone over it when he and Mindy had sparred and then gone for their run that morning. Now, he was going to see if his theory was worth something, or was just bullshit.

First of all, he picked up a cell phone. Like Mindy, he had a phone with an untraceable bootleg number that was used solely by Kick-Ass, never by Dave Lizewski. Consulting an online telephone directory for the city, he dialed a number in Greenwich Village. It picked up after the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hello…Miss O'Doyle…This is Kick-Ass speaking."

"Yeah…right. Tom I've had a bad week and I'm not in the mood for a joke." Colleen O'Doyle sighed back in an exhausted sounding voice.

"Um, no Miss O'Doyle I AM Kick-Ass. As you recall we met late last Friday night at your building's front entrance when those two men decided they wanted you to party with them?" Dave said calmly. He really couldn't blame her for thinking it was a prank. Average citizens didn't generally get costumed crimefighters calling them at home.

"Ah…" she said as she began to realize her initial reaction that she was being crank-called may have been incorrect. "Do you remember what you first said then? I haven't told anybody else that."

"As I recall, one of the men was wondering why you didn't want to 'party' with them. I answered for you that 'Maybe she has some fucking taste.'"

"Damn it! I am SO sorry. I thought it was a friend of mine playing a joke."

"I gathered that." Dave deadpanned in his Adam West imitation.

"I am still so grateful to you. Please tell Hit-Girl that as well."

"I will do just that. Miss O'Doyle I don't want to take up more of your time, as I presume you'll have to leave soon for either work or classes, but I'm afraid I need to ask you some further questions regarding your brother."

"Harold? Do you know the police haven't been to talk to me about that yet?"

"No, but I'm not terribly surprised."

"What did you need to know?"

"First of all, what time did he leave on Monday morning?"

"He left at around 10:30am."

"Did he walk or take a cab."

"He said he would walk. He refused to let me lend him some money for either a cab or subway tokens." Dave smiled to himself as he wrote down the information she was telling him. So far, it was helping to prove his hypothesis.

"Alright, can you tell me what he was wearing? I mean, what sort of coat was he wearing? What colour was it?"

"It was green. It's actually an old Army-issue jacket that he bought at a military surplus store." At hearing that, Dave pumped his fist in the air in his excitement as he recorded the answer on his notepad.

"Thank you. I have one final question for you. Do you know what your brother does for a living? He has a job, I presume?"

"He mentioned he works the evening shift as a packer for a courier/delivery service. Social Services helped him find the job after he got out of Bellevue the last time."

"Do you know what parcel service?"

"He's at World Parcel Services. Like I said, he works in the loading and shipping offices, or so he said."

"WPS? Their working uniform is brown, isn't it? They have those brown jackets, don't they?" Dave asked, even as he did a Google search for the company and brought up their website. The logo and pictures of the staff did indeed confirm that brown was the colour of the company livery and uniforms.

"I think so. Is this important in finding him?" She asked.

"I believe so, Miss O'Doyle. I'll let you go now, but we'll keep you informed of any developments."

"Oh…alright…Thank you again for the other night."

"We were just doing our jobs. Good day, Miss O'Doyle." Dave intoned in the same staccato tone and disconnected the call. He had to restrain himself from doing a happy dance around the basement. The information jibed perfectly with what he was working on.

He renewed his attention on the police report. It was taken at the 102nd Precinct in Queens the previous weekend. It wasn't filed as any sort of high priority, so it had taken him a while to come across it.

The report itself though, if one read between the lines, was worth its weight in gold. On Monday, on MacDougal Street in Manhattan, a corner bell-ringer, in a Santa Claus suit, had reported a man passing him at around 11:15am and telling to go fuck himself. A while later, the same man apparently passed by him again and said he was going to get him. The bell-ringing Santa Claus had just dismissed it as a local nut until the previous Friday morning papers with news of the 4th killing hit the streets. The bell-ringer had reported the Monday incident at his local police precinct. Apparently, any connection had been dismissed by the Strangler Task Force and the report was languishing. Dave had his own ideas about that though. He decided to pay visit to this apparent witness.

The complainant's address was listed as being in Kew Gardens. Dave decided to pay the man a visit. He looked at his watch. It was only just past 6pm. However, it was dark out. It was time for him to take the Mistmobile out.

Twenty minutes later, Dave parked the Mistmobile on a quiet street by a school in Kew Gardens. He looked up and down the street to make sure nobody was coming. Then he shed the windbreaker that he'd worn on the way over and locked it in the car. Dashing into the shadows he pulled his mask on and cut across the schoolyard to the witness' address.

The police report listed the man's name as Fred Johnson. He was a certified aircraft mechanic who worked at John F. Kennedy International Airport, for American Airlines. He volunteered as a street corner bell-ringer, dressed as Santa Claus, for seven years now. He'd been working on MacDougal Street that day as he'd had the day off in lieu of having days off during the Thanksgiving weekend.

Dave approached the man's house stealthily. He caught sight of Fred Johnson out in his front yard, stringing up Christmas lights. That was a piece of luck, Dave decided. He could speak to him without anyone else noticing.

"Mr. Johnson?" Dave said in a tone that was quiet enough that wouldn't alert any neighbours or Johnson's family, but could be heard by his intended listener.

Fred Johnson jumped up in shock and spun around. "What the…Oh my God…You're Kick-Ass!"

"Yes, citizen, I am." Dave responded in the by now familiar Adam West intonation. "I wanted to ask you about the incident on MacDougal Street the other week."

"Oh, that weird jerk? I told the police all about it. They didn't seem to think it was that important."

"I've been hearing a lot of that. But, citizen, I do need to ask you about that."

"What did you want to know?"

"Was this the man, by any chance?" Dave asked as he showed Johnson the picture of Harold Heffernan.

"Good God, that's the man. That was him both times!"

"Can you tell me, by any chance, what he was wearing?"

"Which time?"

"Can you tell me both of them, if you please, Mr. Johnson?"

"The first time I saw him, he was wearing a green Army jacket. It was like those ones you see in surplus stores. It was like he was trying to look like Travis Bickle, or something. The second time, he had on a brown work jacket. It looked to me like it had 'WPS' stenciled on it. It looked to me like he was going to work. He was carrying a lunchbox with him."

"You're very observant, sir."

"I examine aircraft engines for a living. I have to be observant."

"Can you tell me one more thing, if you please? The second time you saw him, do you remember how wet his coat was?"

"Yeah…It was dry. It had a few drops on it, but nothing much. He looked really dry and toasty in that jacket. His WPS cap was dry too. I was envying him because I was getting pretty wet then." Johnson saw Kick-Ass smile at his words. "Does that mean anything?"

"I believe it does, citizen. Thank you for your cooperation. Your help has been most forthcoming." Dave intoned. "Good evening and Merry Christmas." He said before retreating into the shadows.

Driving back home in the Mistmobile, Dave could scarcely contain his excitement. This was a major break in the case. He couldn't wait to tell Mindy. Ten minutes later, Dave had parked the car in the garage that he and Mindy rented out. The paperwork, for tax purposes by the owner showed that it was rented out to a young lady named Mary-Jane Kyle. The rent was paid in cash every month. The garage's owner happened to be a man whose two teenage daughters had been saved from a mugging –and possibly worse- by Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl over a year ago. As a result, the owner had been amazingly willing to rent out the single-unit garage at both a fair price (hell it was a dirt cheap steal) and to guarantee them discretion. Still, Dave and Mindy had the place wired and had installed proximity alarms equipped with cameras. It was nothing personal, but they didn't trust people when it came to stuff like that.

Throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie over his costume, Dave switched to his bike and was back home within ten minutes more. After changing back to jeans and a regular shirt, he returned to the basement and looked at his papers.

Dave measured out the distance between Colleen O'Doyle's apartment and the sight of the MacDougal Street incidents. Forty-five minutes passed between Heffernan leaving his sister's apartment and the first encounter with Fred Johnson. Looking at the distance on the map, Dave figured that would be about the time it would take to cover that distance on foot.

The key, however, was the second coat, the brown one that was dry. That day, New York City had come under an Atlantic wind that produced a cold, miserable November rain. He and Mindy had both noted it and patrols that night had been conducted from the Mistmobile. The weather had been sufficiently miserable to make it a quiet night for them. However, that weather now gave him something to work with.

Heffernan had left his sister's apartment wearing a green jacket and been spotted on MacDougal Street wearing the same one. However, later in the afternoon, he had been seen wearing a brown jacket for work. What's more, that jacket was described as being dry despite the rain. That had to mean that at the time of his second confrontation with Johnson, Heffernan had just come outside into the rain. To Dave, that meant he had to live within a VERY close proximity of the corner on MacDougal Street where the second encounter with Fred Johnson had taken place. Of course, if Johnson hadn't noticed that detail or if the jacket had been wet, Dave would have concluded that he still lived in the neighbourhood but further away from the corner where Johnson had been. Fred Johnson's talent for observing details proably saved him and Mindy a couple of days work in cavassing and searching that area. Now, they could focus on a much smaller quadrant to search in. He looked at the map again. Johnson's position was marked. Checking the computer as well as the street map revealed it was low-rise apartments and walk-ups at that particular stretch.

Dave decided to go find Mindy and bring her up to date on what he'd found out. Afterwards, they could plan a way to find out exactly where he lived. His name wasn't listed in the phone directory, but that didn't mean anything. They could always check what apartments had recently been rented, or if anyone remembered someone moving in with an established tenant.

Dave reached for his cell phone –the one he used for his personal calls and hit the speed dial for Mindy. Over the receiver, he could hear the theme of James Newton Howard's theme for _Batman Begins_ playing –it was his assigned ring tone on Mindy's phone. After about three seconds, she picked up.

"Tell me there's an emergency that you need me for…please!" Came Mindy's desperately bored sounding voice.

"Not having fun shopping with Marty?" Dave laughed.

"I'd sooner be forced to watch a _Twilight Saga_ marathon with a bunch of girls from school while we give each other makeovers while they giggle at making themselves look skankalicious; pretending they're doing it for a sparkly, emo-vampire wuss who doesn't even want to get it on with his moping little girlfriend."

"It's that bad?"

"Shit yeah. I haven't been so fucking bored since I watched Ang Lee's _Hulk_."

"Fuck! That is boring! However, I have something that might cheer you up."

Mindy's voice dropped to a whisper, even though the background noise indicated that there was nobody in danger of overhearing her. "You found Red Mist and we have a brand, spanking new flamethrower for the event?"

"Sorry. Would you settle for a major break in the case?"

"Are you fucking kidding me dude?" Mindy said with barely contained excitement.

"Want me to pick you up afterwards and I can fill you in?"

"Dave, is that a motherfucking rhetorical question?"

"Forty-five minutes?"

"Yeah, that should be enough time to wrap up Marty and Mindy's Adventures in Hell's Shopping Centre."

"See you soon."

"Oh shit, you'd better." Mindy laughed as they ended the call.

Forty three minutes later, Mindy was standing alone in the mall. After three very long and painfully boring hours of searching, she had finally found something acceptable for Marty to give to Erika. Erika herself had met Marty about twenty minutes prior and they had gone off to see a movie together. Mindy was, in fact, carrying the bag with Erika's gifts to maintain the surprise. That had been accomplished, for Marty, at the cost of a skim-milk latte and a new "Batgirl" comic when the new issues came in at the store. Mindy strolled over to the fountain. It was a large one and perhaps the visual center of the entire shopping center. It consisted of four very large reservoirs of water that flowed over to create a stream that led to spigots that sprayed water over a statue. A wooden walkway formed a bridge over the basins, and Mindy found herself strolling over that. Directly across from her was the shopping centre's Santa Claus. He and his elves looked a little edgy. Of course, considering the recent events, that was understandable.

She mused over her evening of assisting Marty. Having friends was still a relatively new experience for her. The years of training with her father and the dedication to the mission had, to put it politely, hampered the development of her social skills. However, she was making up for it and enjoyed the fact she was accepted by Dave's friends. Hell, she was arguably the coolest member of the group. Her cell phone chirped off a text message. She removed it from her belt holster and read the message. It was from Dave and said simply 'I can see you!', with a smiley face icon. Mindy scanned about and saw Dave coming along the mall towards the fountains. She smiled and waved at him.

That was the moment everything pretty much went to hell.

It was hard to figure out what happened first. It seemed there was a scream off to one side.

"You're choking…" a woman cried before being cut off. Mindy looked for the source of the commotion, wondering what she could do without her costume or any sort of weapons (beyond her fists and feet). That was when things went from the abnormal to the bizarre –even by New York City standards.

At the Santa Claus Castle, Santa stood up swiftly, toppling a little girl off his lap. He turned to his elves and screamed out "The strangler!" That struck Mindy was really wild.

Then, Santa and his three elves all reached into their coats and pulled out what appeared to be an IMI Desert Eagle in .357 magnum (in Santa's case) and Smith & Wesson Model 4506 .45ACP, handguns (for the elves). That was bizarre and somewhat scary. Then, all four of them began blasting away in all directions and at all sorts of random moving targets while still screaming it was the strangler, which crossed the line to insanely dangerous…even by Mindy Macready's standards (and it took a lot to ruffle Mindy's feathers).

Pandemonium broke out. Shoppers screamed and dove for cover. Mindy, far more used to gunfire than pretty much anyone else there, stood on the bridge more shocked at the sight of Santa and his elves packing heat and apparently ready to begin throwing lead than the actual gunfire. Then she noticed something rather pressing. The shots, which were first going in every which direction, were now ricocheting off the rails and floorboards of the bridge. These four psychopaths had obviously jointly decided that there was some sort threat beyond her and were shooting at something behind her current position. They didn't seem to notice or care that a twelve, going on thirteen year old girl was standing on the bridge.

Mindy realized that in about two seconds, she was going to be perforated with bullets. There was only one place to go, and that was down.

Dropping her cell phone, which luckily fell into her open shopping bag, Mindy pushed herself off the bridge, while holding on to the rail. At the apex of her push, she released her grip and sailed clear of the rail as she flipped over in a somersault. Keeping enough presence of mind to look where she was about to land, Mindy stole a glance down. What she saw was the largest, and deepest, of the fountain basins beginning to loom large. Ah shit, she thought as she cannonballed into the water with a tremendous splash. Perhaps two seconds elapsed from her feet leaving the bridge to her head disappearing under the water.

For Dave, everything seemed to take on a surreal look. The woman screaming, the Santa and his elves drawing heat and starting to pump bullets into a foe only they seemed to see; and, what loomed biggest of all for Dave, seeing Mindy leap off the platform to avoid the bullets, and splash into the fountain.

He broke into a sprint, intent on nothing coming between him and coming to Mindy's back-up. He never once thought of the bullets that were still flying (But were now coming to a stop as the trigger-happy Santa and elves ran out of bullets and were tackled by security guards and irate customers. Out of the corner of his eye, Dave could see one elf being held by a man who looked to be 80, while a woman of about the same age kicked him in the groin mercilessly while using language that was so utterly foul yet eloquent that Mindy would have stopped and applauded.)

Dave's own heart was pounding like a machine-gun out of worry as he skidded up to the basin, just as Mindy popped up out of the water with splash and a gasp. Pushing her long wet hair from her eyes, she looked up at the bridge she'd just jumped from and then down at herself standing in chest deep water in the basin.

"FUCK!" she screamed. It seemed like the appropriate response to what just happened. She half-waded, half-swam to the edge and climbed out.

"MINDY!" Dave yelled as he ran up and enveloped her in a hug. Instinctively, Mindy hugged him in return. "Are you alright?" He asked as he looked over her dripping form for any signs of injury.

"Yeah…Yeah, I think so." Mindy gasped as she coughed out some water. She surveyed the chaos around her. People were lying on the ground in shock. Some were hysterical with fear. Some were suffering various lacerations from their attempts to take shelter or from flying glass. Unbelievably, there appeared to be no bullet wounds on anyone. And miraculously, there seemed to be no serious injuries resulting from the wild gunfire.

"Are you sure?" Dave asked as he looked down at her and pushed a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. Mindy looked at him for a second, touched as she realized how genuinely concerned he was.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can you go up on the bridge though and grab my bag? My phone fell into it, I think before I had to jump for it."

"Sure." Dave said as he trotted up to her take-off point, while Mindy resumed coughing up water and trying to wring some of the water out of her clothing –her jacket at the very least. She saw an irate, obese, balding man come waddling around the fountain.

"Hey kid…What do you think you were doing? You splashed water into my hot chocolate." He wheezed as he held up his Starbucks cup. Dave returned in time to catch this exchange. He feared for an instant that the miracle of no deaths occurring was about to end as Mindy gave the idiot a look she gave to Rasul's drug den…right before she played 'Eeny, meeny, miny, moe" prior to dismembering them all bloodily. Instead, Mindy just grabbed the venti cup, popped the lid off with her thumb, and dumped the contents over the man's head. She settled the cup on top of his balding, chocolate covered dome. The look she gave him simply dared him to try and do something. Some self-preservation instinct took hold of the man and he realized that he didn't want to mess with the small but fierce looking girl.

Seeing Dave had returned, Mindy turned on her heels –flicking water off of her dripping wet hair and clothes- as she did so and turned away. Dave joined her and gently put his hand on her shoulder. Mindy gave his hand a quick squeeze as they walked, with her shoes squishing, away from the carnage. It wasn't until they were almost back to Dave's place -which was closer than Mindy's- that both recalled the major breakthrough Dave had alluded to earlier.

As they entered the house, Mindy was shivering badly in her wet clothes.

"Ok, I'm going to shower. When I'm done, I want to hear all about it. We need to take this fucker off the street if he's getting people so fucking nuts that they'll turn a shopping centre into _The Wild Bunch_"

"Right, I think it's a big break. And we so need to get this guy." Dave was shaking himself. For a few horrible seconds, he'd thought Mindy was hurt, or worse. He was astounded at how just the thought of something like that had shaken him so badly. He went to the kitchen to make Mindy something hot to drink after her shower. Then, they would plan their strategy to turn a hunter into the hunted.


	6. Chapter 6

_Greetings dear readers. Thanks to all of you who sent me such wonderful reviews. You've inspired me to get this next chapter written and posted._

_Again, my apologies for the length. It wound up a tad longer than I planned it to be. But, this chapter has pretty much everything, some detective work, some action and some nice Dave and Mindy scenes for all the D/M fans. :-D_

_Ok, as you all know. Reviews are my drug. Please feed my addiction. I can attest that the more reviews I receive, the sooner I'll get the next chapter written and posted since I'll be inspired more. (That's a not too subtle hint/plea. LOL)_

_Happy reading everyone! :-D_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part VI

Mindy stood under the hot spray of the shower, savouring the warmth as she finally stopped shivering after her impromptu dip in the fountain. Fuck, she thought to herself, that evening had to go down in the books as a failure on a rather epic level. She was Hit-Girl, one-half of the most feared and respected team of costumed crimefighters in New York City. And what happens when there's gunfire? She was forced to leap into a mall fountain to keep from getting ventilated with bullets herself.

And what the fuck was up with those motherfucking lunatics who did all the shooting? Someone screamed about being choked and the next thing anyone knew it was a goddamn shooting gallery. Mindy reached for the shampoo as she reflected on what Dave had said earlier. He'd told her that he'd made a breakthrough on the strangler case. She truly hoped he had. That asshole Heffernan –if that was indeed their suspect- was making people so fucking batshit crazy they were becoming as dangerous as he was. Mindy finished shampooing her hair and grabbed the bar of Lever2000. They had to take this guy of the streets; period. If the police and –all genuflect- FBI weren't interested in the information she and Dave had uncovered, then the two of them would do it themselves. As she lathered herself thoroughly –Mindy was determined to scrub every inch of her body after being in that fountain water- she resolved that she and Dave were not going to stop until that madman was off the streets. They would take him down easy or they would take him down hard. It was all up to him…but they were taking him down. The decision was made. Everything else was just a detail.

At least, Mindy thought as she soaped herself vigorously, Dave had been right there when it happened with his dad's car to drive her back here quickly. She would have been well beyond pissed –as in, she'd have been in the mood to massacre a street gang if given the opportunity- if she'd had to make her own way home in her sopping clothes on a December night, or have to wait for someone to come and pick her up. Mindy smiled to herself as she decided that she'd washed as thoroughly as she could, and began to rinse off. She had to admit it…Dave was turning out to be a really good partner to work with; as well as a really good friend. Hell, he was the best friend she'd ever had in her whole life. Naturally, that didn't mean she wasn't going to continue to drive his ass into the ground at every opportunity when they trained together…What were friends for, after all?

Dave heard the shower stop running. He went up to the bathroom and called through the door to her. "Mindy, what do you want to drink? I can make you some coffee or tea?"

"Shit, what's easier for you?"

"Ah, tea I guess."

"Then go with that." Mindy called to him.

"Right" Dave called back as he went downstairs to put the kettle on.

Inside the bathroom, Mindy was drying her hair with a towel when she suddenly realized something rather pressing. She had nothing to put on now. She'd been so intent on getting into the hot shower, she'd forgotten to grab a spare robe or something to put on after showering. Her wet clothes lay in a corner, on top of another towel. Her only option was to wrap the towel around herself until she found something better.

Dave trotted back up to the washroom after putting the kettle on to boil a second time. He'd filled a teapot up with hot water to scald it. When the kettle boiled the hot water in the pot would be dumped out, a tea bag put in followed by the freshly boiled water. (His mother had taught him to make tea in what she deemed was the proper way. She would never have allowed her son to make tea by simply putting a bag into a mug and adding hot water.) As he reached the landing, the bathroom door opened and Mindy emerged wearing only a towel wrapped around her. The two paused for an awkward second.

"Oh, uh, sorry Mindy, I was coming to get you something to put on after your shower." Dave said as he tried to come across as extremely casual about the whole thing…without a huge amount of success.

"Oh, ah, it's alright. I was just going to look for something myself. Can I borrow your robe?" Mindy said as she blushed. What the fuck is wrong with me? She thought to herself. Why the hell should she be blushing? It was Dave for fuck's sake. Goddamn it, there was that tingly thing again, she thought with exasperation.

"It's in the dryer now."

"What the hell for?"

"I had to wash it earlier. I spilled some of my creatine drink on it." Dave admitted sheepishly. Mindy grinned upon hearing that.

"Creatine? What the fuck dude? Are you trying to muscle up or something? Shit, it's like you're trying to be a superhero or something." She joked at Dave. She was glad to have something to break the ice and move them past this awkward little scene. Why it should be so awkward though, she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Yeah, or something like that." Dave chuckled back.

"Didn't you listen to Tim- I have no fucking clue what I'm doing in making a Batman movie- Burton's theorem about costumed crimefighting? You don't need muscles to fight crime. You just need a pimped out suit with fake muscles."

"Yeah…But I've got this partner. She tends to kick my ass a **lot**. I have to keep working out hard just to keep up with her."

"Fuck, it sounds like your partner is pretty fucking awesome at what she does." Mindy laughed.

"She's the absolute fucking best." Dave said with a smile.

"Well, if you're her partner then you have to be just as good…or at least on the way to being that good. She wouldn't waste time with you if you weren't." Mindy said with a rare genuine smile at Dave as he led them into his room.

Mindy looked around Dave's room as was her habit upon entering. This was where Dave and her dad had first met. Fuck, Dave had been freaking out that night. In hindsight, she couldn't really blame him. He'd almost gotten castrated and then killed by Rasul, watched her slaughter Rasul's entire drug den –save the sentry that her dad had taken out with the sniper rifle, encountered her dad, and finally woken up to find the two of them in his room. All in all, it was a rather eventful and quite stressful evening for him. Yeah, it was safe to say that Dave actually handled the whole thing pretty well. Some people –associates, now deceased, of Frank D'Amico, also now deceased- had woken to find Big Daddy and Hit-Girl in their rooms. They had freaked out FAR worse than Dave ever had. Several of the mobsters had literally pissed their pants at the sight. One unfortunate gentleman had tried to escape through his window. It would have worked too if not for one detail he likely forgot…but likely recalled about two seconds afterwards–he lived on the twentieth floor and there was no fire escape. That one was a real shame. It was rather hard to get information from a multi-coloured puddle on the sidewalk. Yup, Dave really handled it like a trooper, all things considered.

Being in his room now, made her –for some reason- think of all the times Katie Deuxma had been in here. Well, that was an icky thought. She didn't even want to think about all the things Katie and Dave had done in the room when his dad was at work, or out for some other reason. Against her will, her thoughts went to that UV light that was used to detect the presence of semen. She shuddered as she wondered what would happen if the lights were turned off here and that UV light was used in here.

Dave, in the meantime, was rummaging through his closet to find something Mindy could put on. He finally pulled out a large sweatshirt from the closet. He held it up against Mindy. For some weird reason, he found his hands wanted to tremble as they came close to Mindy, who was still only wearing the towel. Shit that's weird, he thought to himself.

"Let's see. This should fit you." Dave said as he noted it would come down far enough for her.

"I guess." Mindy said as she looked down and saw what was printed on the shirt. "The X-Men? What the fuck? Dude, they're Marvel!" she joked.

"Yeah, but all my DC shirts are summer ones that are packed away." Dave deadpanned.

"I know what to get you for Christmas then." Mindy said with a smirk. "Oh well, at least it has Cyclops on. I mean, he's the best one in X-Men."

"Shit Mindy, of course he is. I have some fucking standards. Cyclops is X-Man that makes you taste the awesome."

"I can wear it then." Mindy proclaimed.

"Ok, you change. I'll take your wet stuff down to the dryer. Then I'll tell you what I've found out about our guy." Dave said as he exited his room to allow Mindy privacy to slip the sweatshirt on.

Five minutes later, Dave and Mindy were seated on the living room couch. Mindy was wearing the sweatshirt which came down almost to her knees. She was seated with her feet on the couch, sipping at a mug of hot tea as she listened to Dave while he went through his running down of the lead. The television news was on but muted. As a story came on about the gunplay at the mall earlier, Dave and Mindy both noticed and Dave turned the volume up and listened to the anchorman's voice .

"…the WABC-7 team now takes you live to the scene of the shooting now, with correspondent Bob Fontana filling in for Jim Dolan. What do you have Bob?"

"Well Bill, apparently the shooters in question –the mall's Santa Claus and elves were all licensed to carry their weapons. They're reported to be former Blackwater operatives recently hired by the mall. The mall manager responsible for their hiring is reported to be a former employee of Haliburton. An undisclosed source at his office has reported him as being quoted saying 'It seemed like a good idea at the time.'"…..

The report went on to say that the shooting apparently began when a purse snatcher tried to grab a woman's purse, not noticing that the strap was around her shoulder. When he'd tried to run, the strap caught her around her neck and she'd screamed out that he was choking her. That set off the shooting, apparently as the Santa and team thought it was the Strangler –despite the totally different modus operandi from what the previous crimes had indicated. As for what was already being called a minor miracle, despite the well over forty rounds fired, nobody was hit and the most serious injuries sustained were to the shooters themselves when irate mall patrons apparently engaged in a spontaneous beatdown of the shooters once they'd run out of ammunition. Dave turned the volume back down.

"Wow. Hard to believe nobody got fucking killed tonight, Mindy."

"Fuck, you said it." Mindy said with disbelieving shake of her head as she watched the television. "If we don't get this fucker…" Mindy was cut off as the sound of the theme from _Starsky and Hutch_ emanated from her cell phone. She picked it up from the coffee table, flipped open the Nokia 6103 and put it to her ear.

"Hi Marcus…Yeah, I was at the mall…No, I'm fine…I swear, I'm FINE…Hey, I was shopping with Marty when six-shooter Santa and his gang of crazy elves started shooting, I wasn't even doing any, um, work…Things are getting bad? Yeah, Dave and I were just talking about fixing that…What?...He picked me up at the mall and we're at his place now. Look, I'll tell you all about it later, I promise…You too…Bye." Mindy sighed as she ended the call. "Marcus remembered I was going there with Marty tonight and he freaked out when he heard about all the crazy shit. Ok, so this witness out in Kew Garden told you about Heffernan passing him on the street that afternoon. What's the big deal again about his coat and hat being dry?"

"Don't you see, Mindy? It was raining pretty fucking hard that day. If Johnson saw Heffernan at this corner here, at MacDougal Street and Minetta Lane, and his coat and hat were still dry that means he would have had to have just come outside into the rain. If he'd come from any amount of distance away, he'd have a wet coat."

"Fuck…You're right. But, that's still pretty fucking thin."

"We thought the same thing about what Sammy was going to tell us last week."

"Damn straight. But still, what if this Johnson guy hadn't noticed or if the coat HAD been wet? I mean, the guy could've stopped to buy a paper, listen to a message from the fucking voices he probably has in his head, anything like that."

"I thought of that. Even if that had been the case, Heffernan was still seen around here coming home from his sister's place and then seen a while later leaving for work wearing different clothes. So, he has to live someplace around here. If Johnson hadn't noticed anything or if the coat had been wet, we would still know the general neighbourhood he lives in. But now, we can figure, with a pretty fuck decent amount of certainty, that he lives somewhere in one of these buildings that front on the intersection of MacDougal Street and Minetta Lane." Dave said as he pointed to the map and his notes. "And, let's face it. Do we really have anything better to go on?"

Mindy looked at the map and notes for long seconds and finally nodded her head. "Shit Dave, I have to hand it to you. You really put some thought into this."

"Thanks" Dave grinned at Mindy's compliment. He noticed Mindy rubbing her barefeet together.

"Are your feet cold?"

"Yeah, one of these days I've got to get a pair of slippers for here."

"Let me see if I can find you a pair of socks."

"Nah, I want to hear more about what we're going to do next. I don't want to waste time. I've got an idea. Here…" Mindy said as she slid her barefeet under Dave's upper thigh on the couch."

"Holy shit, your feet are cold." Dave laughed.

"Try them on my end" Mindy deadpanned. "Thanks for the warm-up"

"What else are crimefighting partners for?" Dave said with a grin.

"So far, it looks like you're doing better than the police at tracking this guy down."

"Fuck, it pisses me off that we had to go through all this. The Strangler Task Force could have had this guy's address by now. They know where he works. They could get it from there."

"Damn straight. But then they'd have to admit that their best lead came from a source that doesn't have a gold shield. And they can't have that. It might screw up everyone's climb up the ladder at One Police Plaza."

"Well, we still don't know his exact address. He could be in any one of these buildings around the intersection."

"Well, we're just going to have to go over and work the area until we see him of someone can tell us where he lives."

"I already figured we'd be doing that. How do you want to play it?" Dave asked. They had the option of going there in costume and asking around. People tended to be awed by meeting a pair of real-life, no fucking shit, superheroes and tended to be far more loquacious about information with them than they would ever be with the police. The downside was that it was pretty much impossible to be inconspicuous that way. The guy would sure as hell spot them –or at least hear about them- and he would bolt. Then they'd be back to square one, or perhaps even worse since now Heffernan would be wary of the two masked manhunters on his trail.

Mindy looked at him and smirked. "You tell me. How do you think we should play this?"

Dave answered without hesitation. "We should play it quiet. No direct questions about him, at least not yet. And we don't suit up. We go there with some type of fucking reason to be there and knocking on doors." Mindy nodded approvingly as Dave gave his dissertation.

"Bra-fucking-vo; as Catwoman would say, purr-fect. We go down to MacDougal and Minetta with some type of reason to go around knocking on doors."

"A lot of people are knocking on doors this time of year. We wouldn't look out of place, at least."

"Yeah, we have that going for us. I think we should go with Plan-SB."

"Cool. I like Plan-SB."

"Yup, it's like Lindsay Lohan: easy but looks innocent. And we can cover a lot of ground with it."

"When do you want to do this?"

"We can start tomorrow. Tonight, we'll get it all ready. Do you have everything we need?"

"I think we've got everything in the kitchen. If we don't I'll run over to the convenience store."

"Go get the boxes from downstairs and I'll get started in the kitchen." Mindy said as she pulled her feet out from under Dave, got up and headed to the kitchen with her still steaming mug of tea in her hand. Dave, on his part, headed for the door leading to the basement, and their lair, as they began to prepare Plan-Shortbread.

An hour and a half later, Mindy –dressed again in her by now dry clothing- removed a pan of shortbread biscuits from the oven and placed it on an insulated pad while it cooled. Dave, in the meantime, was lifting shortbread biscuits from another, cooler pan and placing them in a box lined with wax paper. Upon reaching the quota, he folded the wax paper over the biscuits, closed the box and placed it with the dozen other boxes arranged in a neat pile.

"Mindy, how much more dough do you have?" He asked as Mindy was preparing another batch for the oven.

"It looks like one more after this. We should have enough for two dozen boxes."

"What if we hit paydirt quickly?"

"Fuck Dave, that's nothing to worry about. If we find him fast, I can just give any shortbread we don't want to Marcus. He'll bring it in to the precinct for their Christmas party. He did that last year and it went fast."

"How fast did it go?"

"Faster than a brick of coke at Charlie Sheen's house."

"Shit that's pretty fucking fast."

"You said it." Mindy said as she put the pan in the oven, set the timer and prepared the last pan. Dave watched her and still couldn't quite believe it. Mindy, he knew, had many skills and talents. The one skill he'd have never guessed was a talent for making shortbread. As she'd explained to him when he'd mentioned that exact thing to her, Macready was a Scottish name. Her father had been proud of his heritage and had been taught to make shortbread by his grandmother. He'd passed on the family recipe to Mindy. (Apparently, Damon had always slowed down their intense training and work pace for two weeks around Christmas and actually tried to give Mindy a relatively normal holiday. An integral part of that was his grandmother's shortbread recipe that he taught Mindy.) Dave remembered her shortbread from last Christmas. He had to admit, it was fantastic. In fact, it was simply the best shortbread he'd ever had. Now, the Macready's family recipe was being used to help them with their case.

The plan was a rather straightforward one. The boxes that Dave was carefully placing the shortbread into were labeled 'MacConnery's Shortbreads". They were done in a red tartan design. Dave and Mindy had arranged for the boxes to be specially made, as there was –at least, not to their knowledge- any firm by that name that dealt with Scottish baked goods. Tomorrow, Mindy would begin going door-to-door in the area they believed Heffernan lived in. She would be selling –under the guise of a Scottish cultural society trying to raise money- boxes of shortbread biscuits. The plan was ideal on a number of levels. Door-to-door sales like that were common in the city, so she wouldn't look out of place. Secondly, Mindy's appearance tended to disarm people. They generally never suspected that a young girl like her could wipe out a room full of armed thugs with scarcely breaking a sweat. Thirdly, if any of the legion of criminals, molesters, psychopaths, or lowlifes that populated New York City tried to mess with her in any way, shape or form…Well, to paraphrase Marsellus Wallace, they could be guaranteed the rest of their short life would be lived in agonizing pain.

"Hey Mindy, how do you think your costume will go?" Dave asked as he gestured towards an outfit suspended on a doorframe by a hanger. It was a green tartan kilt with a similarly coloured vest and a white blouse. Black ghillie shoes with knee high socks would complete the ensemble. She even had a tam-o-shanter cap to go with it.

"Aw hell, I think it'll go fine."

"Hey, this is the first time we're using our disguise kits." Dave said with an enthusiastic grin.

"Fuck dude, you've been dying to break something out of that for more than a year now. Haven't you?"

"Yeah" Dave admitted sheepishly. It was just so cool, he thought. It was their first undercover work.

"Try not to cream your fucking shorts there, tomorrow. I may just need some backup." Mindy said with a trademark sardonic tone.

Dave examined the bag Mindy would be using the next day. "What are you going to be packing?"

"It'll be something small. If anything happens, it'll go down at close range. Anything heavy wouldn't be needed. Maybe a Walther, or an H&K P7. I'll have a Balisong with me too. The gun will go into the hidden pouch inside the bag." Mindy pointed to a concealed pouch sewn into the bag that the boxed would be carried in. The knife I'll have on me."

"Do you think you'll need either of them?"

"I really seriously doubt it. Fuck, I may not even pack a gun along. We'll be working in daylight, so we can't rely on the dark or shadows if things go fucking south. That means, if things went bad it's not as easy to slip away into the shadows like Batman. It's not a bad neighbourhood, so probably nothing will happen to begin with. If something does happen, it'll probably just be some asshole two-bit mugger. If I can't handle that barehanded, it's time I hung up my mask, rented the _Twilight Saga_ and sat down to watch it while listening to Hannah-What type of fucking genes did my dad pass on to me?- Montana."

"What if we find Heffernan and he tries something fucked-up?"

"Shit, I don't think we're that fucking lucky. If he tries something, it'll be his trademark strangle job. You know as well as I do that sick fuckers like that generally don't break out of their patterns. He'd try to strangle, which I could deal with. Afterwards, the cops would show up to find out what the commotion was –and there SO would be commotion- and discover however much of him I left. They'd check his apartment. He probably has scads of evidence all over the place. If not, I'd bet money that as soon as he's in an interrogation room, he'd be dying to tell everything on his sick fucking mind."

"And you don't think he'd do anything if we can find him?"

"No. Like I said, we're not that lucky. More importantly, a little highland girl isn't his big trigger. A certain fat guy in a red suit is."

"Shame we –and I guess I mean I- can't go door-to-door in a Santa outfit. That would definitely trigger him."

"Yeah, it probably would. But guys in Santa suits don't go door-to-door selling stuff or raising money. If he saw someone doing that it would raise a flag. He might suspect a sting. He might go for it, and he might not. It would probably fucking depend on his sick he is. Even if he did go after you, then what would happen? You'd be able to take him, but then what? It would be pretty fucking hard to explain why Dave Lizewski would be in a Santa outfit, going door to door in Greenwich Village and just so happened to be a good enough fighter to take out the Strangler." Mindy shook her head. "As much as I want to get this sick motherfucker we can't do anything dumb to risk our secret identities."

"Yeah, I fucking hear you Mindy. That's one thing the comics did get right, didn't they? The most important thing we have is our secret identities."

"Damn straight. And no thug is worth risking those. Not even Red-fucking-Mist." Mindy said plainly. The oven timer sounded then and Mindy went to extract another pan.

"OK." She said as she sat down at the table afterwards. "Let's go over the plan again."

The next day saw a pretty, young girl dressed in Scottish highland apparel approaching the intersection of MacDougal Street and Minetta Lane. Mindy looked around the area. There were many businesses lining the streets with apartments built above them. On one stretch alone there was the MacDougal Street Ale House, a hookah bar and Mediterranean-style restaurant called Luxor Lounge, an establishment called C'est Magnifique that apparently specialized in gothic style jewelry and a Yolato Yogurt. Mindy was tempted to check out the yogurt place when she was done. Not far away was Village Comics. She was sure Dave would want to look into there at some point in time. A couple of blocks away was situated Washington Square Park, where all the chess players congregated.

Looking around, she spotted Dave by a payphone –she was momentarily surprised that there were still working payphones in the City- right by the Ale House. She brought her hand up to her collarbone, where her microphone was concealed under her clothes, and snapped her fingers loudly. She saw Dave touch his ear and then run his left hand through his hair after removing his cap. That was the signal. He was hearing her fine. It was time to begin the canvas.

An hour later, Mindy was beginning her third building. Gaining entrance to the buildings was easy. So far, only one of them had a working security door limiting access from the street. And as for that…well, Mindy had learned to pick a lock at about the same time she learned to tie her shoes. She went through the door probably faster than a tenant could with a key.

So far, the canvas had yielded nothing. Mindy had thought to check the mailboxes downstairs to see if any of them had the name 'Heffernan' on. That had proven futile. Most of the mailboxes didn't have name labels and the ones that did were faded with time. For all Mindy knew, the tenant could have changed three or four times since the last time the mailbox names were changed. The outer door buzzers didn't help either. They listed apartment numbers, not tenant's names. On the plus side, she'd sold about ten boxes of shortbread biscuits. She wasn't sure if some of the buyers –specifically the disturbed looking guys- made the purchase because they wanted shortbread biscuits…or if they were being sold by an almost thirteen year old girl in a highland skirt. Mindy shook her head sadly, so many perverts to take care and so little time.

She looked at her watch. Time was getting short. If she didn't find him –or at least get a lead on him- soon, she'd have to abandon the canvas and come back tomorrow. It was getting close to the time he would be leaving for work. Once that time arrived, she didn't want to waste time knocking on doors if he was possibly already departed for work. Mindy figured she had perhaps ten or fifteen minutes remaining.

Mindy finished working the top floor, which yielded no Heffernan but four more sales, and walked down the stairs to the floor below. Mindy came to a door that she noticed was lacking any sort of Christmas decorations upon it. That didn't mean anything of course, since a huge number of people in New York City didn't celebrate Christmas for religious reasons. Mindy noted that her feet were starting to get sore in her ghillie shoes as she knocked on the door. From inside, there was the sound of someone approaching the door; a chain and deadbolt were disengaged and the door creaked open to reveal Harold Heffernan.

Mindy's training ensured that her face was kept completely neutral as she recognized their prime suspect. He looked exactly like in the picture, except for the weight loss and facial hair. And his eyes beheld a restrained intensity that hinted at the conflicted emotions of their owner. Mindy cleared her throat and began, all the while looking past Heffernan and into his apartment, trying to find further clues.

"Hi there, I'm selling MacConnery shortbread biscuits for the Scottish-American Heritage Society, Staten Island Branch…"

"I don't want any kid. Thanks anyway." Heffernan said before summarily slamming the door in Mindy's face.

"Well fuck you very much yourself." Mindy grumbled as she removed a pen from her vest and jotted down the apartment number on a piece of scrap paper. She sighed and thought to herself that at least they had positively identified his residence. He'd been clearly on his way to work, as he had been wearing a WPS shirt partially done up. No doubt about it. This was where he lived. And Mindy had noticed another thing when she'd looked in the door. There was religious paraphernalia everywhere within her line of sight. There were crucifixes on the walls, paintings of the Virgin Mary, etc. If Heffernan was that religious and still committing the crimes, then he would have to be very conflicted or really insane. The previous May, she and Dave had caught a guy attacking a girl not too far from here –at Washington Square Park, to be exact. He was one of those guys who thought God was talking to him and was telling him to fight against Dave and Mindy. After breaking both his arms, his nose and about half of his ribcage, Mindy had reflected that guys like that were scary. They wouldn't likely surrender since they thought what they were doing was God's will. Now, there was a chance Heffernan was also wired like that.

Mindy walked over to the staircase and began her descent to the lobby, she was delayed a few minutes by a biscuit buyer from the third floor who liked the box he bought so much he wanted to buy all of Mindy's remaining inventory. As it meant not having to haul it all home again, Mindy happily agreed.

On reaching the street, Mindy looked down toward Bleecker Street and saw Dave standing in front of Panchito's Mexican Restaurant. He saw her and jogged down towards her.

"How'd it go?" He asked her casually as they began to walk slowly down MacDougal Street towards West 3rd Street.

"I found him." Mindy said with a totally cool grin. It was only the fact they were in public that stopped Dave from yelling out at the top of his lungs.

"What? Are you shitting me?"

"Nope, I saw him. We now have a definite fix on his apartment."

"Did you see anything we can use?"

"Do you remember that douchebag we busted up last spring at the park?"

"The one who thought God was talking to him? Yeah, I remember."

"This guy looks like he's pretty religious too."

"That gives me an idea. Did you see that church a few blocks over?"

"You mean the one at the corner of West Houston and Sullivan Streets?"

"Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua, yeah that's the one."

"What about it?"

"Do you think Heffernan might go there?"

"I think so. It looked like he was Catholic –from some of the icons he had in his apartment, and it's only about a quarter of a mile away from where he lives. It would make sense. What are you thinking?"

"Well, I was thinking that…" Dave started to explain but was cut off by a harsh noise to the side.

"Ok fuckface, you and the chick get in here!" A voice from an alley they were passing in front of harshly spoke.

Dave and Mindy turned to look in the alley and saw a young man, no older than 18, brandishing a flick knife. His buddy, who was holding a lead pipe, circled behind Dave and Mindy to herd them into the alley.

Dave and Mindy complied simply for the reason that they had something in common with these two losers. They too wanted to be out of the public street and somewhere secluded for what was to come. Neither of them was even remotely concerned, let alone scared. Dave was impatient to deal with these future dental and orthopedic patients so he could get back to what he was telling Mindy about his plan. For her part, Mindy was practically bouncing with excitement. She'd had a boring afternoon of selling biscuits. Now, she would get to let off some steam. Dave tilted his head towards the idiot with the knife and gave a questioning look. Mindy smiled and gave a single nod of her head. The idiot with the knife was Dave's. She would wreck the day of the lamebrain with the lead pipe. Dave smiled back and nodded.

"Ok, hand them over: wallets, cell phones, everything…HEY! What the fuck are you smiling for?" The jumpy moron with a knife screamed at Dave.

"I'm just thinking of how popular you're going to be in the showers at Attica; after you're able to walk again, that is. You're going to be everybody's favourite bitch."

"What the fuck are you fucking at me? Don't fuck with me, I be the ones whose has gots the knife." The punk spat out, turning the knife in his hand so that the blade and hilt would glisten in the faint light of the alley. Dave and Mindy sighed to themselves. Maybe this guy would use his prison time to study his grammar. The dimwit with the pipe appeared to be about tied with his weapon in terms of IQ.

"Ok, let's get this over with and not kill anybody." Dave sighed.

"Hey, yo, good things youze be recognizing what I can does to you…" the idiot began to monologue only for Mindy cut him off.

"He wasn't talking to you, you piece of Attica Ass. He was talking to me!" Mindy giggled with barely restrained enthusiasm. "Oh, do you want us to leave your dick attached so you can do some batting there, as well as catching? Ah, I guess your dick is so small nobody could tell anyway."

That was the final straw for the tough-talking knife wielder. He screamed and charged forward towards the pair, screaming at the top of his lungs. Finally, Mindy thought. They could get this fucking nonsense over with.

Dave stepped forward into the wannabe hoodlum's path as he charged. At the last second, Dave sidestepped while grabbing the punk's knife hand with both of his own. The charging hood's momentum continued to carry him forward while Dave quickly twisted his knife downwards and then up again in a swift circle. At the very top, as the hand came up again, Dave twisted the thug's wrist and put pressure on the back of his hand with both of his thumbs. The hoodlum simply couldn't maintain a hold on his knife. His fingers splayed open and the knife went flying. Dave continued forcing the hood's arm up and therefore his head down towards the ground of the alley. The wannabe gangster's face smashed down and dragged across the alley pavement. Dave then pushed down with all of his body weight against the now overextended wrist. There was an ugly and painful sounding snap and the punk's wrist broke and hung at a disturbing angle. The hoodlum screamed out in pain and desperately tried to fight back. He kicked out at Dave who simply caught the leg as it came towards him. He put it in a tight grip and twisted, overextending it the way he did the arm. All he had to do now was, with his free arm, bring the point of his elbow down right into the side of the knee joint. There was another horrid sounding snap and the punk's leg now also had a drastic looking angle to it. Dave turned around to see how Mindy was doing against the lead pipe loser.

The guy with the lead pipe appeared to be about as dumb but full of machismo as his buddy. He charged at Mindy, swinging down with his pipe like he was hammering a stake into the ground. Mindy almost yawned, his attack was so slow. She effortlessly stepped to the side of the pipe, while simultaneously leaping straight up in the air with a front snap kick. The vicious snap kick caught the loser right under his chin and snapped his head back as he gagged. Mindy landed gracefully and instantly drove a ridge-hand strike at his ulnar nerve. The nerve strike combined with the kick to the chin was enough to cause his grip on the pipe to loosen. In an instant Mindy had it in her hand, and swung it with savage strength at his knees. There was a very bad sounding pop and crunch as the punk went down screaming and clutching his now broken knee cap. Mindy swung the pipe again, bringing it solidly in contact with the wannabe mugger's nose. It simply collapsed under the blow as blood exploded out of it. The formerly pipe wielding loser collapsed on the ground clutching his knee with one hand and nose with the other. He wouldn't be a threat to anyone for six to eight weeks…absolute minimum. Mindy looked at the blood stained pipe in her hands. She'd pulled a pair of gloves on, due to the cold weather, after leaving Heffernan's building. It was a good thing, since now she didn't have to worry about removing her fingerprints from the pipe. She looked over and saw how successful Dave had been with his opponent. She grinned at him and they walked calmly out of the alley, leaving their would-be muggers lying in broken heaps of pain.

"That was relaxing." Dave joked.

"Shit, I say we don't have to spar tonight. We earned a night off just now." Mindy laughed. Her laughter was interrupted by the ring tone for Marcus sounding on her cell phone. "Hold on a sec, dude." She grabbed the phone from her pocket.

"Hey Marcus…WHO are you? Sergeant Reynolds? Where's Marcus?...Oh shit! How is…Hello?..HELLO? Fucking shit, the call was dropped!" Mindy screamed in frustration.

"Mindy, what the fuck's going on?" Dave asked as he saw the fear in Mindy's face.

"Dave, it's Marcus!" Mindy yelled as she began to run down the street. Dave joined up beside her. "He's was taken to the hospital!" Mindy said as she fought to keep herself in control. She and Dave picked up their pace as they ran down the street.

_Wow. I think this is my first cliffhanger chapter ending. Please don't kill me. LOL I'll have the next chapter up by the end of the week, I hope. Who knows, with good reviews and a chance to focus, I might get it up even sooner. Hope you all liked it. :-)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Greetings readers, wow I can't believe I got this chapter up in such a relatively short time. This is the longest chapter yet. I do hope that nobody thinks it's too long or starting to get boring. It does have some good Dave/Mindy scenes, so I'm hoping that'll offset the length of the fic. :-D_

_The character of Daniel Aloysius Malone is Jason Flemyng's character from the film. In the credits he's listed as "Lobby Goon". I realized he needed an actual name, so this is what I came up with for him._

_Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. It's the good reviews that inspire me to write more and to write it faster. :-D_

_Once again, I ask everyone to take pity on a review addict by feeding the addiction. :-D_

_Happy reading everyone! :-)_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part VII

Mindy glared hatefully at her cell phone as she and Dave ran southwest on MacDougal Street before making a left turn onto Bleecker Street.

"Fuck this phone!" she screamed in frustration as she angrily shoved it back into her pocket.

"What exactly did they say?"

"Nothing, they said absolutely fucking nothing! Only that they had to take Marcus into Bellevue!" Mindy said through clenched teeth as she fought to keep her eyes from watering.

"Bellevue's only about two miles from here. We can probably get there faster this way then trying to get a cab or something."

"Fuck, I know!" Mindy screamed as the duo raced along Bleecker Street, past Broadway and then Lafayette Street. At The Bowery they turned right and raced a short way down until they got to East 1st Street. There, they dashed along, past 2nd Avenue until they arrived at 1st Avenue. There, the two crimefighters turned left and began to run the just over the 1.1 miles up 1st Avenue to Bellevue Hospital.

Few words were exchanged between the pair as they ran along the Manhattan streets. Dave was concentrating on running and mentally planning what to do if they arrived at the hospital to find bad news awaiting them. He promised himself that he would be strong should Mindy need him to be and would make sure that she was taken care of. If it came to it, she could move into his house. She could have his room and he would use a pullout couch down in their "lair". He just hoped his friend wouldn't lose someone else, as she'd suffered far too many losses already.

Mindy, on her part, was also silent. She didn't trust herself to speak, and she was glad Dave was staying silent as well.

Soon enough, they came up on 462 1st Avenue, Bellevue Hospital. Dave noted as they headed for the Emergency Room entrance that there were a number of police cars parked there. Of course, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Police cars were almost always at Bellevue for one reason or another. Dave did notice that there were several Ford Crown Victoria's that were unmarked –which naturally made them look all the more like police cars- and which were used by the Anti-Crime Unit; Marcus' unit. Dave didn't comment on the presence of the cars there. He simply looked over at Mindy as he realized she had to have noticed them as well. She was looking straight ahead and biting down on her lower lip.

The two raced into the Emergency Room. It was the usual chaotic scene that marked one of the busiest Trauma Centers in the United States. Dave noticed that there were several cops, both uniformed and plain clothes Anti-Crime Unit officers, congregated in various clusters. Some were reviewing their notebooks. Others were talking about whatever had transpired, as was evidenced by their hand gestures. Others were simply drinking coffee together and engaged in general conversation. Dave tried to read their faces for some sign of what they would find. He was distracted however, by Mindy's tearing off to try and find someone who could tell her where Marcus.

"Excuse me," she said to a jaded looking duty nurse talking on the phone. "Sergeant Marcus Williams…Where is he?"

"Just one second, honey." The nurse responded in a bored tone and resumed her conversation about some sort of paperwork on a patient that had not reached the orthopedic ward.

Mindy just gave a glare to the nurse and was about to reach over and literally yank the phone out of the wall when Dave came up behind her.

"Where's Marcus?" he asked her as he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Fuck, I don't know yet." Mindy growled as she unconsciously reached up and squeezed Dave's hand with her own. She was about to reach across the counter and let the distracted nurse know that she wanted information on Marcus, and she wanted it now. She also considered simply charging at the security doors leading into the triage area of the Trauma Center, taking out the security guard with a crescent kick to the head and forcing her way through. Luckily for all involved, she never got the chance to exercise either option. A rangy looking uniformed officer wearing a Sergeant's chevrons on his winter duty jacket approached them.

"You said you're looking for Marcus? Marcus Williams?"

"Yeah, that's right." Dave said instantly as he figured Mindy might not be able to keep her temper –and vocabulary- in check. The officer nodded in acknowledgement and looked at Mindy.

"Are you Mindy?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm Mindy! Now please, where is he?" Mindy asked in a voice that Dave could tell she was fighting to keep civil in both tone and content.

"Ah," the officer said. He gestured for the two of them to follow him through the security doors. He waved to the guard on duty that they were cleared to go through. Inside the triage areas, there was even more chaos than outside. Dave noted that surrounding one trauma bay, there were a pair of uniformed officers standing by, watching the medical staff work and they quietly exchanged comments. Dave gulped and wondered if that was where they were being taken to.

"I'm Sergeant Reynolds." the uniformed officer introduced himself. "I'm the one who called you. I'm sorry we got cut off. Apparently the battery on Marcus' cell phone, which I was using, ran out just then. I would have called you back, but I didn't have your cell number handy –I just used Marcus' contact list on his phone to call. I finally got it and was about to call you back when you showed up here."

"Fine, but where is…" Mindy asked through teeth clenched with worry as she suddenly cut off.

"Mindy!" a familiar voice called from a trauma bay they'd passed by. Mindy spun around and charged in. "Marcus!" she cried as she more or less crashed into the curtained alcove with Dave right on her heels.

The two crimefighters stopped short as they took in the sight of Marcus. It wasn't what they'd led themselves to expect. Marcus was propped up on a gurney, a _Sports Illustrated_ magazine –likely brought from the waiting room- in his hands. Aside from some dirt and salt stains on his clothing and some scrapes he appeared fine…save for his left ankle. It was resting on a small pillow, after the shoe and sock had been removed. It had a cold pack on, but was obviously very badly swollen.

"Marcus!" Mindy cried and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "What happened?" she said with a voice that she was only controlling through her years of training.

"Didn't they tell you?" Marcus asked in a puzzled tone as he smiled and nodded in recognition of Dave.

"Mindy just got a call on her cell phone that you'd been brought into Bellevue." Dave said with relief. He felt tension pouring out of his body as he saw that Marcus clearly was not seriously injured.

"Oh, that's what I was trying to tell you." Sergeant Reynolds said. "When I called you, I was about to tell you that it wasn't anything serious when the phone died. I was about to call you back when you two got here. You got here really fast. Were you somewhere close?"

"We were over at MacDougal Street in the Village. We were…on our way to check out Village Comics. We're both big comic geeks." Dave said with what he hoped was a sufficiently nerdy sounding voice to go with their cover story.

"Ah, I have a son who's big into comics too. How'd you get here so fast then?"

"We ran."

"You ran? You came that far and that fast? What are you guys, on the track team or something?" Reynolds said with a laugh.

"Or something" Mindy said as she finally released her hug on Marcus.

"Larry thanks for your help here. Can you maybe give us a few minutes alone though please?"

"Sure pal. Nice meeting you kids" Reynolds smiled and went back to the main waiting area. Marcus returned the smile and then looked at Dave and Mindy.

"You two ran all that way?" He asked them.

"He only said that you'd been taken in to Bellevue. He didn't tell me anything else before the call got dropped. We didn't want to f-, ah, mess around with a cab." Mindy said. "What happened?"

"My team was out on a drug sweep when we got a call about an armed robbery of a bodega. We were able to make the perp. He took off down an alley. Sally O'Neill, who was driving the unit, and I went after him on foot. He jumped a fence and we followed. He pulled a piece on us as we were coming over. He opened up just as I jumped down. He missed us, but I didn't look where I was landing. I guess I came down on some ice or something. I went over on my ankle badly. Sally got her Glock out and tagged the kid twice in the chest. He's over in the other trauma bay now, so far as I can tell. They don't think he'll make it, or that's what I heard from the nurse who brought me in the magazine"

Mindy stifled herself from saying that if the suspect did somehow survive his injuries, she would pay him a visit and make him wish he'd have flatlined and stayed that way. Instead, she just asked "But are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm waiting for an x-ray to see if it's broken or badly sprained. I guess I'm riding a desk the next few weeks though." He finally took notice of the fact that Mindy was wearing Scottish regalia and Dave was wearing a large cap and very darkly tinted glasses that made it very hard to identify his face. Marcus lowered his voice. "Can I assume you two were in the Village for something other than visiting Village Comics?"

"We'll tell you when you get home." Mindy said. "When are you getting home anyways?"

"Not for a while, I think. I get the idea they're pretty busy and an ankle x-ray isn't a high priority now."

"We'll stay here with you until you're discharged." Dave offered as he put his hand on Mindy's shoulder again. Mindy nodded her agreement as she squeezed his hand in gratitude.

"Forget that. I might be here until midnight. What I would like though, is if you two could go up to the precinct and" he paused as he reached into his hip pockets and removed a set of keys which he handed to Dave "drive the car back home. One of the guys will take me home when I'm finally sprung. I don't want to have to bother someone else by going to the precinct to pick up the car and drive it all the way home before they go home themselves. I'll have someone call the precinct and let the duty sergeant know you're coming to take the car so they'll let you into the reserved parking lot."

"Oh, we'll take care of it no problem." Dave said as he looked the car keys in his hand. After the relief of finding Marcus not badly hurt, he and Mindy would have pretty much agreed to do anything if asked.

"Good to hear. But Dave…You know that whole pain-reduction thing you've got going?"

"Yeah"

"If there's one new scratch on the car…You'll need it." Marcus said with a smile but a look that clearly warned Dave to be extra careful driving home.

"Uh, sure, I'll be careful." Dave said with a worried grin. He had a feeling Marcus meant what he said.

"Want me to drive, Marcus?" Mindy asked with a grin.

"Let me think about a minute…No!" Marcus responded unsurprisingly. "Now go on home. It's getting late. Mindy, there's some spaghetti sauce in the freezer for dinner if Dave wants to stay.

"Ok Marcus. I'll see you later." Mindy said as she gave her guardian a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Don't worry Marcus. I'll get Mindy and your car home safe." Dave said as he shook Marcus' hand before leaving himself.

"Thanks a lot. And Dave," he said as he gestured for Dave to lean in closely. "Thank you, for being there for Mindy today. I'm really glad she has you around." Marcus said with a smile before gesturing for the two of them to leave.

Dave and Mindy exited the hospital, stopping to thank Sergeant Reynolds on their way out. Once out of the hospital, the two of them walked down 1st Avenue to 26th Street where they turned right. Again, few words were spoken as they walked along 26th Street to Park Avenue South, where they turned right at the Hotel Giraffe and proceeded to walk northeast to the subway entrance at 28th Street. It wasn't until the two of them were seated on the Number 6 train that was headed for Pelham Bay Park that Dave finally turned to Mindy.

"Are you alright, Mindy?" He asked gently

"Fuck Dave…Fuck. The entire time we were running, all I could think of was how badly hurt he was. And, when was the last time I told him how much he means to me and how much I appreciate what he's done for me." She said in a tired sounding voice. That alarmed Dave. He was used to Mindy's foul-mouthed rants. He was used to her sarcasm. He was used to her gentle teasing when they did something fun together in their off hours. But, whenever she sounded so tired and plain beaten down it alarmed him. She was Hit-Girl. She was the person he was trying to be as good as when it came to fighting crime. To hear her sound like this shook him to his core.

"He'll be ok Mindy. It's just his ankle. It might not even be broken."

"Fuck, I know that. It's just…" She sighed as she wiped her eyes.

"It's just what?" Dave asked quietly as he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her slightly closer to him.

"It's just that I can't lose him. I can't lose anyone else. I lost my mom without even knowing her. I lost my dad. I can't lose Marcus. He's about all I have left. There are just about two people left now that I really care about. He's one of them." Mindy said softly as she fought back tears. Fuck me, she thought. She was disgusted with herself. First, she got all worried and nearly lost control when they were at the hospital. And now she was getting all weepy and emoting all over Dave. Mindy resolved to train harder for an extra hour the next day to punish herself for allowing her defenses to drop like this.

"Who's the other?" Dave asked absently as he pulled her in closer and rubbed her shoulder. He was glad that the train wasn't too full and the people that were on seemed to be the typical New Yorkers who simply did not notice and couldn't care less about the distress of a fellow subway passenger.

Mindy looked up at him. "You fucking have to ask? It's you dumbass! You're the best friend I've ever had." She said as a laugh over Dave's obliviousness was combating the tears that had formed despite her resolve against them. "You're such a fucking…I don't know what, at times, dude. But I am so totally fucking glad to have you."

Dave smiled as he felt a warm sensation come over him at Mindy's words. He was glad that she was able to open up to him and that he was that important to her. He pulled her in even closer and wrapped both arms around her in a hug. Mindy put her own arms around him and returned the hug.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm really glad you have me like that and I'm just as glad I have you too." He said gently. He didn't see the smile that appeared on Mindy's face upon hearing what he said.

The nine stops went by quickly and soon enough Dave and Mindy stepped off the subway train onto the 103rd Street Station on the Lexington Line. From there, it was a very short walk to the 23rd Precinct.

Dave went into the station house and spoke to the desk sergeant. Marcus had indeed called ahead and arranged for Dave and Mindy to get access to the officer's parking area to take his car home.

Mindy found the car easily and Dave unlocked it so she could climb in. He went around to the driver's side and climbed into the driver's seat and fastened his seat belt while Mindy did the same with her belt.

He placed the key in the ignition and started the car up. Instantly a loud and oddly familiar song blasted from the stereo. While Dave was surprised, Mindy rolled her eyes with disgust and reached down to turn off the stereo. Dave shook his head a moment as he turned the car out onto East 102nd Street and then immediately turned left on Lexington Avenue

"Shit Mindy, that song…It sounded familiar."

"Yup" she said disgustedly.

"I can't place it, it's…" Dave searched his memory as he made another left turn onto East 96th Street.

"It's _MMMBop_ by Hanson."

"Fuck, I thought that's what it was. What's it doing on Marcus' car stereo?"

"Well, Mister Detective-Costumed Crimefighter, you probably won't believe this…But it's his favourite song."

"Are you shitting me?" Dave asked with amusement as he turned right on 2nd Street.

"I fucking wish I was dude. But no, Marcus plays that song all the time when he's in the car."

"Shit, how do you handle that?" Dave asked. He shook his head in wonderment at this amusing revelation about Marcus while he turned left into East 92nd Street.

"Oh that's not so bad. What's really bad is when he sings along to it?" Mindy said in her 'You wanna play?' growl.

"What?" Dave said with a laugh.

"He drives along, singing along to fucking _MMMBop_!" Mindy said with a shake of her head as Dave merged from East 92nd Street onto FDR Drive South which would take them down to the Brooklyn Bridge.

"So, you're telling me that Marcus –a decorated New York cop- likes to sing along to _MMMBop_ by Hanson –Hanson!- when he drives around?" Dave found himself laughing.

"It's not funny!" Mindy yelled, even though she was starting to laugh herself. "Guess who's often in the car when he's doing his karaoke driving? I've listened to that song so many fucking times that it's affecting my fucking head. I've had motherfucking dreams where you and I face off with a team of costumed thugs who want to become some type of Rogues Gallery-super villain…and it's fucking Hanson! They then start into _MMMBop!_"

"What happens after that?" Dave gasped in between spasms of laughter.

"It beats the fuck out of me. I usually wake up in a cold fucking sweat by that time!" Mindy laughed back at him. They were both releasing the pent up tension of both their afternoon undercover work and the worry about Marcus.

"Well, if we ever do meet up with fuckers like that, we'll leave them alone and call Marcus to handle it."

"Shit, that sounds like a good plan dude." Mindy said. Her attention was then distracted by another vehicle that passed them in the opposite direction. It was a brown WPS truck. She followed it with her eyes before speaking. "Fuck, I wonder what our buddy Heffernan is up to right now? I'd sure as hell hate to have another strangling when we're getting so close to him."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Well, what the fuck is our next step then?"

"When we get back to your place, I'll tell you what my plan is." Dave said simply as he maneuvered the car onto the Brooklyn Bridge ramp.

Thirty-five minutes later –the traffic had been heavy when they came off the Bridge in Brooklyn, and it had delayed their arriving back at Mindy's place- Dave pulled the car into Marcus' small driveway. Mindy hopped out and walked up to the door, reaching into her pockets for her house key.

She motioned for Dave to hurry up as she selected the key from one of several on her key ring. (The other keys were for Dave's house, the garage where they kept the Mistmobile, an extra key for said Mistmobile, a storage locker for unneeded equipment as well as some items that had belonged to her parents, and a key to at least one other safehouse where she had a cache of firearms and ammunition stored.) Dave stood close by her on the front stoop. She inserted the key and unlocked the door. The duo stepped in quickly as a beeping noise was heard and a red light flashed by the doorframe. Mindy quickly punched in a four-digit code and the beeping stopped with a green light now appearing.

"Marcus likes his security at home." Dave mused.

"Oh that's from before I moved in. I guess I can see his point. You never can tell when some assfuck he's busted might try to track him down at home and try some payback. After I moved in he wanted to get an upgrade. Personally, I wish he'd disconnect it…at least when I'm home." Mindy said as she pulled off her ghillie shoes and left them on the mat by the door.

"Why?" Dave asked although he felt could put five dollars on the answer.

"Fuck dude, someone douchenozzle tries something like that and I'm home…I call that the joys of working from home." She grinned.

Dave shook his head and chuckled at the thought of what Mindy would do to some poor, soon to be begging to be put out of his misery, punk who would do something stupidly suicidal like break into Hit-Girl's house when she was home. "Marcus might have a hard time explaining just how his thirteen year old adopted daughter turned a badass thug into, well, whatever type of wreckage you'd turn him into." Dave suggested with a smile. At least, Dave thought, Mindy was snapping back to normal. To hear her plan out violent and painful fates for the cowardly criminal scum of the city was music to his ears.

"Fuck it. I would leave him strung up on a post in the yard. He'd be a warning to any other dumb motherfucker who would try dropping by uninvited. Shit, I guess that would also keep the birds out of Marcus' vegetable garden too." Mindy smiled dreamily as she visualized the concept.

Dave couldn't help but laugh at that. That idea was so…Mindy. And she would do it to, if given the chance. "Wouldn't the local neighbourhood committee or something object to that?" He gasped between guffaws of laughter.

"Fuck them! If they don't like it, they can just kiss my ass!" Mindy said with a smirk. She was feeling much better now. It never seemed to fail, she'd noticed in the last year or so. Whenever she felt down or upset about her dad, she'd go and hang out with Dave. They'd train, they would go over plans, or sometimes they'd just go to Atomic Comics and talk over a beverage. Soon enough, she'd be planning out some insanely violent and gloriously bloodthirsty vengeance on whatever criminal element they happened to be focusing on at that time. Then, her dark mood would have passed and she was back to normal. (Well, the Mindy Macready variation of normal.) She really didn't like to think of how she would have gotten through those moods and black periods if she didn't have Dave in her life.

Mindy removed the light jacket she'd worn over her Highland dress and motioned for Dave to follow her up the narrow staircase. She led him into her bedroom. Dave looked around the room. It was rather strange to be standing in Hit-Girl's bedroom. It looked so…normal. Of course, Mindy wouldn't have anything out that would blatantly compromise her identity. (Even if it was her bedroom in her home, Dave knew she went by the maxim of 'better safe than sorry'.) About the only obvious thing that might connect Mindy to Hit-Girl upon a quick look was the colour. The predominant colour scheme in the room was purple. Aside from that, it could be the room of any tenth grader anywhere.

Mindy pulled off her white stockings and pulled a –naturally- light purple bathrobe from a hook behind her door.

"Dave, I'm going to go take a shower. I was sweating in some of those buildings I going door-to-door in. They must have the fucking temperature up around 80. And then we had our little sprint up to Bellevue. Can you go down and take that spaghetti sauce out of the freezer and put it in the microwave to thaw it?"

"No problem."

"Fucking-A excellent. Then I want to hear this big plan of yours. Shit Dave, you're really becoming the master strategist here. You pinpointed Heffernan's neighbourhood and now you have another idea?" Mindy smirked at Dave as she undid her tartan vest (Which Dave noted was the same tartan design as her Hit-Girl skirt. And that, she'd once told him, was the Macready family tartan.)

"Damn straight." Dave grinned at her as he turned around and went back downstairs to allow Mindy to undress for her shower.

Twenty minutes later, Dave and Mindy were seated at the kitchen table. A pot of water, containing pasta, was boiling on the stove. In the microwave, a large bowl of thawed spaghetti sauce was being heated. As their dinner cooked, Dave and Mindy were reviewing a map of the MacDougal Street neighbourhood where their prime suspect resided.

"OK." Dave began, as he pointed to the maps and notes. "Heffernan lives in this building here." He said as he ticked off the spot on the street map with a blue highlighter pen. "Now here, just about two blocks over, at the intersection of West Houston and Sullivan Street is this church; the Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua."

"That's right."

"You said that when you got a look inside his apartment, it looked like he was the type who went to church regularly?"

"Damn straight. He had crucifixes and religious paintings on the walls. Do you think that's where he goes?"

"It's only two blocks from where he lives, so it would make sense if he did."

"OK. I can fucking see that, but how does it connect to the case?"

"Well, let's face it Mindy. This guy looks really good for it. From what his sister told us, from that bit we got from Marcus, and from what Fred Johnson said; everything points to him. Except…"

"Except…We don't have any hard evidence on him. There were no fingerprints found anywhere, according to the police reports. There are no eyewitnesses placing him at any the scenes. No blood, semen or saliva were found, so that rules out DNA evidence. Fuck, you know when you get down it, we can't even be certain that he's our guy."

"I know what you mean. We can't even be sure…yet. But, he feels right for it to me. Don't you feel that way too?"

"Damn straight. I feel it in my guy from what we've got so far. I felt a definite weird vibe when I was at his door today. But…But it's still not totally certain. And, I hate to say it, but even we can't do anything to him unless we are sure." Mindy sighed in frustration. She'd never had any problem with dispensing summary justice on the streets. She and her father had pretty much exterminated just about every member of the D'Amico mob. She'd decapitated a rapist once and had absolutely no problem with the idea of making Red Mist beg for his death long, LONG before she actually killed him. However…That was dealing with professional hoodlums or scum they'd caught in the act. As good as this Heffernan guy might look for the strangling cases, she couldn't and wouldn't allow herself to dispense summary justice to someone they simply suspected of being their suspect. Even if there was just one chance in a million they might have the wrong guy, they had to wait. It was agonizingly frustrating but, as Mindy realized, perhaps it was a part of what being a hero entailed.

"That's what I'm getting at Mindy. If we want to catch him and then put him away somewhere, we're going to have to catch him in the act."

"Fuck, it goes without saying that's the best way. But, there are a lot of fucking guys in Santa costumes this time of year, not surprisingly. We sort of can't stake out every one. And, if we tried to do surveillance and put a tail on him there's too much fucking risk of him spotting us before he tried anything. And then, he'd be spooked and before you know it he's in the wind. We wouldn't hear from him again until the next guy in a red suit goes belly up. He might even pull up stakes here and head anywhere he wants to: Buffalo, Rochester, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Boston…They all have guys in Santa suits out this time of year and would be easy pickings for him." Mindy shook her head dismissively at the thought. "No. We can't do any fucking surveillance. The risks would outweigh the reward and we couldn't keep at him twenty-four hours a day either."

"I was thinking more or less the same thing. I think that we have to pretty much deliver a target to him on a silver platter; right in his own backyard, so to speak."

"Yeah that would fucking work, I think. Where does the church come into it though?"

"I was thinking that this guy, if he's a regular, and is as religious as you say he looks to be, might come out to regular church activities –bazaars, bake sales, all that stuff."

"Alright"

"Well, what if this church were to sponsor some sort of Christmas bazaar, with a Santa Claus in attendance?" Mindy's blue eyes lit up at that suggestion.

"Holy shit dude! He would fucking flip his crazy shit! I mean, his trigger would be on a place he considers sacred ground. I think he might not be able to resist." She grinned in eager anticipation of bringing their quarry to ground.

"That's what I was thinking exactly." Dave said with a smile as he rose from the table and went to stir the pasta which now appeared to be ready. Mindy went to the microwave, donned oven mitts and removed the steaming sauce bowl.

"So, you've been the big thinker so far on this. What do you want to do next?" Mindy asked as Dave dished the pasta into some bowls while she added the hot meat sauce.

"I was thinking," Dave said as they set their bowls of food back on the table and began to eat "that we first need to go over to the church and see if we can arrange some sort of bazaar or Christmas street party. Do you want to do that after dinner? We can suit up and take the Mistmobile back over."

"Sure. Marcus sent me a text while I was showering –he apparently borrowed someone else's cell phone to do it. He said he's still waiting. He won't be home until well past midnight, most likely. Um, do you mind if we come back here after checking things out at the church? I kind of would like to be here when he gets home; I mean, in case he can't walk around too well and needs my help, or something." Mindy said with a half-smile.

"Sure Mindy." Dave said with a smile of his own as they tucked into their food.

An hour and a half later, Dave and Mindy –now in their costumes and in the Mistmobile- raced back across the Williamsburg Bridge over the East River. (They were avoiding the Brooklyn Bridge due to the earlier traffic congestion.)

"I wonder what they'll say at the church when we show up there dressed like this." Dave mused as he drove.

Mindy looked up from the directions on the GPS device with a smirk. "I think we'll be first superheroes to call on their rectory. At least I'd think we would be. New York is getting so fucking crazy some days you can never tell."

"I wonder how our sparring partners from this afternoon are faring." Dave snickered.

Mindy turned to her right and looked out the passenger side window. Far up the East River, she could just make out the lights of Riker's Island. "Oh, I'll bet they're on some decent painkillers, wondering just what the fuck happened to them this afternoon."

"That guy with the lead pipe looked like a fucking idiot."

"Shit, neither of them were exactly Phi Beta Kappa material. I think those two douchelicks would have to go to school for four fucking years just to upgrade to 'shit for brains'. You did a hell of a good fucking job on that retard with the knife, by the way."

"Thanks. You were awesome with Colonel Mustard and his lead pipe, yourself."

"Thanks right back at you. But fuck, that guy was easy. I was almost tempted to keep both hands behind my back and only just use my feet…just to make it a little challenging, you know. And…I noticed you didn't try punching the guy with your fists. Bra-fucking-vo! Alright, pop quiz: why do we try to avoid punching like that if we don't have sap gloves or knuckle-dusters on? You've got ten seconds to answer…" She looked at him intently with a smirk.

"We avoid barehanded punches because the human hand has twenty-seven bones including the wrist. These bones are generally small and comparatively delicate compared to the larger and heavier bones of the head and jaw. Striking these large and solid bones with an unprotected hand (which has those twenty-seven small bones) can result in injury to the hand, up to and including breaking a good number of these small bones. Thus we must avoid punching with unprotected hands. Contrary to what you see in movies, you don't knock a guy out with one punch to the face. All you're likely to do is turn your hand into a maraca." Dave finished his dissertation that had been drilled into him ever since he started his hard training with Mindy over a year before, with an arch to his eyebrows that couldn't be seen clearly under his mask.

Mindy smirked at him and nodded approvingly. "As Egghead would say: eggs-cellent. Now, for a bonus point, what DO we use rather than a bare fist for strikes to the head if, for whatever reason, we don't have sap gloves or knuckle-dusters on?"

"We use our elbows, which have a solid bone and can be delivered with great force while still keeping the arm relatively close in to the body. The added bonus is that if the very tip of the elbow is used, there is the usually result of a great deal of pressure delivered by a very small striking area, namely concentration of force. We use the ridge of our hand, otherwise known as the knife-hand strike. And, if worse comes to worse, we use our heads. The solid bone of the forehead encountering the delicate cartilage of the nose at a high velocity will result in a wicked crunch, a wickeder explosion of blood, and a douchebag punk screaming in pain." Dave again finished by adding the touches that Mindy had included in her earlier lectures. He spared a glance over at her sparingly before putting his eyes back on the road.

Mindy grinned at him and clapped her gloved hands in applause. "Learned much, you fucking have. Sooner or later, you know, you're going to look at yourself and realize you're totally the real fucking thing." Mindy said approvingly.

"I'm not there yet."

"No. But you're getting there. You're fucking getting there." Mindy said as they came off the bridge into Manhattan.

At the corner of West Houston and Sullivan Street, Dave and Mindy regarded the Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua. It was a rather familiar sight to them, as they hid in the shadows in the parking lot. It had been used as a shooting location, in _The Godfather Part II_, for the Feast of Saint Rocco scene. Dave, before becoming Kick-Ass, had watched the film for entertainment. Mindy had viewed it as a way to look into how the mob thought. Both were wondering just how to approach one of the Friars –since its construction in 1888 was staffed by the Franciscan Friars- without unduly alarming anyone or bringing undue attention to themselves.

Their problem appeared to resolve itself when a Friar emerged from the church and began to walk across to the rectory. Dave nodded at Mindy, this was their chance. They dashed from the shadows and caught up to the priest.

"Excuse me…Father?" Dave intoned in best Adam West impersonation. The Friar jumped in surprise and turned around to address who he expected to be a parishioner. He did a double-take as he recognized the individuals in front of him.

"Wow, Kick-Ass…and Hit-Girl? Well, I must say, you're not who I was expecting. Well, I guess I need to ask, is there anything I can…help you with my friends?" The priest said, feeling somewhat awkward. At the very least, he'd have something interesting to tell his confreres at breakfast tomorrow.

"Yes…Father…I believe you can. Do you recognize this man?" Dave asked as he held up a photograph of Heffernan.

"Why yes…He's a parishioner here. Is there any, um, problem?"

"There…might…be. We are here…to…help solve it."

"What problem might that be?"

"You've heard about all the strangulations of men in Santa Claus suits?" Mindy piped in.

A strange look came over the priest's face. "Oh yes. I've heard of them. But, I'm afraid I cannot, and by that I mean I absolutely can NOT say anything more regarding Mr. Heffernan. I do apologize." The Franciscan said sincerely. Dave understood his meaning. Heffernan had obviously come to the priest in confession. The Friar, then, was now bound by the absolute Seal of the Confessional and could tell them nothing more.

"I understand Father." He sighed. He decided he could still bring up the matter of the trap they had in mind. He hoped that nothing about it would cause a conflict.

"I know these murders have been terrible. We're having problems with our Christmas block party because of them." Dave and Mindy's eyes both shot open at those words.

"What?" They chorused.

"Our annual Christmas block party looks like it might be a failure. The man who was all set to play Santa Claus quit suddenly and we can't find another one on short notice."

"When is the party?" Mindy asked intently

"It's this coming weekend, but this time of year we can't find anyone and frankly everyone is so scared of what's been happening nobody around here is too anxious to put the costume on. To be honest, I can't say as I blame them."

Dave and Mindy looked at each other and grinned with a subtle nod at one another. "Father…I think…you can go…ahead…and proceed…with planning…for this…event." Dave intoned in his Adam West impersonation.

"What about someone for Santa? That's always big hit with the children who come around for it."

"Don't worry about that. We'll provide the Santa –free of charge too. All we need is to be allowed to set up some things of our own beforehand." Mindy smiled at the priest. "And, I think we might be able to take care of a much bigger problem at the same time." She said with a knowing nod.

The Friar returned the grin and nodded back. "Alright, I'll trust your judgement on this matter. I wish you'd come around to this area more often. We've had several of my parishioners mugged in the last two weeks. They've reported it's a pair of hoodlums, one has knife and the other has a lead pipe. The police haven't even bothered trying to find either of them." The priest said as he noticed Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl were both trying to suppress smiles. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Ah, I don't think those guys are going to be bothering anyone again around here for a while." Mindy said with a smirk

"Do I want to know the details?"

"I really don't think so."

"Well, that's good news at least. I am grateful for that. Oh, may I prevail on you for one last favour?"

"Certainly…Father." Dave said.

The Friar reached into a pocket of his robe and removed a cell phone. "I have several nieces and nephews. They're all huge fans of yours. Do you think that I could…?" He trailed off with mild embarrassment as he revealed he'd brought up his cell phone's camera.

Dave and Mindy looked at each other, then just shrugged and stepped over to a streetlamp where the Friar could take their picture more clearly. After all, it always helped to have the public on your side when you were a pair of masked manhunters.

Fifteen minutes later, Dave and Mindy were back in the Mistmobile on their home across the Williamsburg Bridge. Mindy was calling up a file on their iPhone. She turned over to Dave as he spoke.

"So, I'm guessing you and I were thinking the same thing as to who we should get for the street party Santa." Dave said with a grin.

"Damn straight. Has to be someone who we have some pull over and who's had his hands dirty enough that he won't fucking fall apart if the shit gets real. And for that, we have one Mr. Daniel Malone." She pointed to the file brought up on the iPhone. It showed a face that was familiar to her from the night they finally destroyed the D'Amico organization. The name listed was Daniel Aloysius Malone. He was listed as a part time cook at a restaurant in Hudson Heights. He apparently was also studying cooking and restaurant management, with an apparent goal of opening his own restaurant.

He was also, the only known survivor, aside from Chris D'Amico (aka Red Mist), of Frank D'Amico's organization. Mindy recognized him because he had been the door man that had allowed her, in her innocent school girl guise, to gain access to the D'Amico Building lobby. He'd been in process of pulling out his cell phone to allow her to call her 'mommy and daddy' when she pulled the semi-automatic pistol with that very large silencer and stuck in his mouth sideways. Needless to say, his night took a sharp turn downhill at that point. Mindy's first shot –which had taken out another of the goons on duty- had gone right through his cheek. After finishing off the other two goons Mindy had put another bullet into Malone –her father had taught her never to expose her back to a wounded foe; always finish them. Mindy thought she had, at the time. She later discovered that Malone had somehow survived the second shot by pure luck –she'd hit the cell phone he'd been in the process of removing from his pocket.

After getting out of the hospital for the bullet wound to his cheek, Daniel Aloysius Malone had apparently decided to make a few changes in his life. So far as Dave and Mindy could tell, he was working a legitimate job and was genuinely pursuing a career in the restaurant business. Well, Mindy had to admire the fact the guy was smart enough to realize that working for the mob might not be the wisest thing in a guy's life. On one level, she did wish him well in those future endeavours. On the other level, they needed someone who could put on a Santa outfit to bait their trap. Furthermore, it would be good if that person had enough experience with…stressful…job situations that he wouldn't fall apart if the shit hit the fan. Finally, it would be best if that person was someone they had some pull over. Luckily for them –and unluckily for Malone- nobody else knew of his involvement with the D'Amico mob. It was a sure bet that Malone didn't want people to find out this tasty little tidbit about his past. That gave Dave and Mindy a very great amount of pull over him.

Dave looked over at the picture on iPhone and grinned. "Well, I guess we'll go pay him a visit tomorrow. I hope he looks good in red." He snickered.

"Damn straight. I think it's time Daniel A. Malone did a bit of community service to pay off his debt to society." Mindy said with sneer as Dave turned the car off the bridge to begin the drive back to the storage garage. Mindy could scarcely contain her excitement. They had planned out the trap. Tomorrow, they would secure the bait. Then, in a matter of days, they would take down The Santa Claus Strangler.


	8. Chapter 8

_Greetings readers and devoted fans. Sorry I wasn't able to update last week, but a busy week got in the way and I had to do a Valentine's Day oneshot fic for the _Let Me In_ fic page._

_I had originally envisioned Chapter 8 as the chapter with the story's climax. However, it was running so long, I decided to just end it where does end at and do the climax in Chapter 9. :-D_

_I'm sorry if the middle part of this chapter drags a little. I had to do a lot of exposition for Daniel Aloysius Malone, as well as give him some internal thoughts and monologues._

_Ok, you all know the drill by now. I'm am a complete and total review addict. Once again, I beg you to feed my addiction by reviewing. :-D_

_Happy reading everyone! :-D_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler Part VIII

It was a several days later, when Dave and Mindy next found themselves seated at the computer desk in the basement lair. Schoolwork had taken priority over their case the previous few days. Dave had promised his father that his grades wouldn't suffer as a result of his costumed vigilante career. Thus far, he was living up to that promise as his grades were better than they'd ever been previously. He credited that to simply enhancing his focus and motivation.

Mindy (who had a similar deal with Marcus) simply astounded her teachers by the fact she was getting such good marks despite having been exclusively home-schooled up until she'd entered Grade 9 at Millard Filmore High School a year prior and was three years younger than most of her classmates. She simply believed that all her previous schooling had been so intense, that she found the curriculum rather slow by comparison. The only class she actually had ever had trouble in was Physical Education. She found it rather hard to curtail her rather…advanced…abilities and talents. On top of that, Mindy tended to be highly competitive. Her classmates found that out one dark day when the coach made the –in hindsight- unwise decision that the Phys-Ed class should play a game of dodgeball. Dave still hadn't heard the whole story on what had happened. The traumatized players of the opposing team were apparently still suppressing memories of the incidents. About all Dave knew for certain was that Mindy's team won by a VERY wide margin.

Now though, with school obligations out of the way, Dave and Mindy could focus their full attention to the apotheosis of their hunt; the endgame of their pursuit of The Santa Claus Strangler.

Dave was looking reviewing some files on the computer, while sitting in a swivel chair in front of the monitor. Mindy was sitting cross-legged in a swivel chair next to him, dressed in a work-out outfit –she'd been working on the heavy bag- and in her bare feet, absentmindedly –yet expertly- twirling one of her Benchmade Model-42 butterfly knives in her hand.

Dave looked up from his papers and the computer screen. He was calling up final data for Daniel Aloysius Malone. As well, he had a few e-mails (sent via Kick-Ass' MySpace page) from the Friar they'd spoken to at the Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua. Things were set for the parish's annual Christmas street party. All that remained, from the parish side of things, was their Santa Claus. And THAT was where Malone came in. They had originally planned on calling upon him the day after their talk with the Friar at the Church, but had decided to wait until they were done with any pressing things for school.

Dave called up the data on their soon-to-be helper on the computer. Mindy looked at the picture pulled up from the Star Career Academy where he was studying both cooking and restaurant management. It was the picture taken for his student identification. Mindy instantly recognized it from that night at the D'Amico Building. She had appeared at their front door dressed in a schoolgirl's outfit, complete with necktie and skirt, pretending to be a helpless little schoolgirl who had 'lost her mommy and daddy'. Of the assembled D'Amico employees, Malone had been the only one to actually ask if she was alright and to try to assist her by loaning her his cell phone. Of course, once he'd gotten close enough she'd drawn a semi-automatic pistol with a large silencer from a concealed holster on her back. Before Daniel Malone really knew what was happening, the silenced muzzle of the pistol was in his mouth. All in all, Mindy had felt the slightest bit bad at shooting right through his cheek afterwards. He had been decent enough to help what he thought was a young girl in distress. When she'd learned afterwards that he'd miraculously survived the two bullets she'd fired into (and through) him, Mindy had been reflective. He'd survived through sheer freakishly good luck. At the time, she and Dave had discussed it. They would keep tabs on Malone and wait. There was always a chance he could be useful to them at a later time.

As it turned out, Malone had made himself rather, well, vulnerable in terms of them having something on him. Malone had not been taken to the hospital from the D'Amico building. Apparently he had regained consciousness sometime after Mindy ascended to the penthouse –after redressing in her Hit-Girl costume- and decided to get as far away from the D'Amico building as possible. He'd fled and gone to the hospital on his own to have his face stitched up.

Thus, Malone's name was not connected to the D'Amico Building Massacre –as the event was called in the press. (The Massacre was attributed, by the police and officialdom, as warfare conducted by a rival mob.) He'd been lucky enough beforehand to have never been arrested despite his long employment by Frank D'Amico. And, all his previous payroll and tax records listed him as a legitimate employee of the D'Amico Building itself. There was nothing at all to connect him to being a gun-toting employee of the Frank D'Amico criminal empire.

And now, Daniel Aloysius Malone had apparently decided that he's pushed his luck far enough in that line of work, and had opted to make changes in his life. He'd enrolled at Star Career Academy soon after. His student profile listed his eventual goal as being owner of his own restaurant.

"Alright Mindy" Dave said as he looked up from the computer screen. "We're all set at the Church, at least according to the e-mail from the Father. Oh, his nieces and nephews were ecstatic about the pictures he took of us, by the way."

"Good to fucking know." Mindy said with a smirk. "I guess it always pays to have people liking us."

"It makes our job easier, that's for sure."

"My dad never really got around to that part of the job."

"He didn't?"

"Nah…He kind of went with we hunted down D'Amico soldiers. We pumped them for information. And then we pretty much fucking wasted them." Mindy said offhandedly. "I'm not saying it was the best way to do things…but it fucking worked for us back then."

"I always wondered…Is that what you were doing at Rasul's apartment that night? Were you going to sweat him for information if I hadn't shown up there?" Dave asked his partner.

"Eh, yes and no. Rasul was a low-level, piece-of-shit drug dealer. My dad didn't think he would know jack-fuck-all about Frank D'Amico's organization –at least not anything we didn't already know or could actually use. But, Rasul did tend to move a fuck lot of product for D'Amico in some of the neighbourhoods. We figured if we took out Rasul that would cut off another distribution leg for D'Amico. If none of D'Amico's drugs are being sold on the street, then there's no money from those sales flowing back up to your favourite bazooka target, Frank D'Amico."

"That's what you were there for?"

"Fuck yeah. You see, an ass-wipe like D'Amico has a lot of overhead in an operation like he has –or, I should say, had. He's got employees to pay and expenses to take care of. I mean, that's the same as any legitimate business but thugs aren't known for being inherently loyal or working for a guy out of the goodness of their heart without being paid. You cut off D'Amico's income flow then pretty soon you're cutting off the cash flow he needs to keep his organization running. It makes it pretty fucking easy to go in then and start really taking it apart. You starve it out, then go in when it's ripe for the picking."

"I thought all these mob guys were all sworn to death under the boss they work for." Dave asked quizzically. Mindy laughed in response.

"Oh fuck no. I mean, maybe among the real old Mafia families in Sicily you might find assholes like that who believe in putting loyalty above money. I mean, I seriously fucking doubt it, but I guess it's possible over there. Most of these hoods are just two-bit gunmen and street muscle that have moved up a bit. Their loyalty pretty much is about as long and deep as their next paycheck. Fuck it Dave, you should've seen how fast some of those guys sang for us. I mean, they might claim they're all 'loyal'" Mindy made quotation marks in the air with her fingers as she emphasized the word 'loyal', "but you should have seen how fast they talk when you dangle them out a tenth floor window, or handcuff them inside a car compactor, that type of stuff." Mindy said with a nostalgic look in her eyes as she recalled the memories. "And, he also has to cover a shit lot of bribes. I mean, a motherfucking son-of-a-bitch like Vic Gigante doesn't just sell out his badge and his oath for a smile and a pat on the head from a bald-ass piece of vermin like D'Amico." Mindy said as her voice grew momentarily taught. She stared at the blade of her butterfly as it glimmered in the light. She gave herself over for a few seconds to her fantasy. She was cutting off the penis, followed by the testicles of a screaming for mercy (or death) Gigante. Afterwards, she was torn between to set him alight or just coating him with bait and letting rats eat him alive. That one was a tough choice. All she knew was that anything she did to Gigante would seem like a walk in the park compared to what was coming to Red Mist.

"Mindy?" Dave asked her gently. She shook her head as she realized she'd drifted off into her vision of vengeance.

"Sorry about that dude. So as I was saying, Rasul was pretty much as useful to us for information as he was to the rest of the human race in all other things. By which, I mean he was completely useless. I'd have asked him a few questions sure, if he'd lasted that long, but I was mainly there just to take him and any of his thugs out and grab his drug money. All in all, it was supposed to be a pretty fucking simple job. But, who should I meet there?" She smiled at Dave and reached out to give his swivel chair a gentle push with her bare foot.

Dave smiled at Mindy in return, and she felt that strange feeling shoot through her again whenever Dave smiled at her these days. Fuck, she thought to herself that is getting so weird. But, she noted, she didn't exactly dislike the feeling. A few seconds passed. Finally, Mindy spoke and broke the silence.

"So, do you think we're ready to visit my old buddy Malone?"

"I think so. Let's see here, we've called the locksmith and paid him…"

"He's got our letter?"

"Damn straight." Dave said with a grin. "I've got what I need for the fire escape."

"It's good and sharp, and the melon is nice and ripe?"

"Yes on both. Do you have what you need for your part?" Dave asked as he looked down to a dark canvas bag on the floor by Mindy's chair.

"Oh hell yeah; I cannot wait to use this thing."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that." Dave said in a sarcastic way that he'd picked up from, well, her.

"Shit dude, you got to use the bazooka. This one is my turn."

"I wouldn't dare try to take it away from you." Dave said with a laugh.

"Better not, dude. And, I called Sammy. He's all set for his part later on."

"OK. I think we're set. Let's suit up and…to the Mistmobile"

"Damn straight. Shit, I almost wish we could use the jetpack for this."

"Hell Mindy, I'd like that too. But, I think we'd attract too much attention."

"Yeah, I guess a guy and a girl in funny outfits, masks and a cape, driving a car that shoots mist of the hood, really blend into the woodwork." Mindy snickered as she and Dave went up the stairs to get changed.

"You know, there are times when I think this city is getting so fucking crazy that we could walk around Times Square –in broad daylight- in our costumes, or completely bare-ass naked, for that matter and people wouldn't look at us twice. I mean, fuck Mindy…The city is a goddamn, motherfucking madhouse."

Mindy fought down that weird sensation she got again when Dave said the word 'naked' (not to mention her momentary visual of the two of them doing that), and just replied, with a grin, "Yeah, I know…Isn't it fucking great?"

Daniel Aloysius Malone unlocked the door to his tiny, second floor apartment just off 42nd Street in the Hell's Kitchen neighbourhood of Manhattan. He was tired. It had been a long night in the kitchen of the upscale bistro where he worked as a _commis –_an apprentice chef. On top of that, he'd had classes at Star most of the day and there was a crunch of end-of-semester work. In truth, he couldn't really complain too much though. His life had changed dramatically in the last year, or so. Back then he'd been working for Frank D'Amico –as he had for most of his adult life. He'd been the doorman at the D'Amico Building. (Or, as he liked to refer to himself, he was a security guard…despite the lame-ass looking uniform and ridiculous hat.)

In hindsight, it was a stupid job and a waste of far too many years. But, he'd grown up on the same streets of Hell's Kitchen that he now lived in. In that environment and with the types of guys he'd run with then, joining the world of organized crime had seemed like a completely acceptable thing. It wasn't uncommon to have that attitude in New York City (or, for that matter, in any big cities where there was a permanent criminal class and organized mobs that provided employment). From the burned out wastelands of The Bronx to the bucolic setting of Staten Island that provided a veneer of false civility. From The Bowery to the "social clubs" of Brooklyn, and from Hell's Kitchen to the seemingly innocent residential neighbourhoods of Queens, you could find youths who felt becoming criminals was a fine way to rise up in the world…and men like Frank D'Amico who would pay them to be his foot soldiers and to give their lives to protect his empire.

That's what Daniel Aloysius Malone had been doing with his life. He'd been guarding the door to Frank D'Amico's building. At the time it seemed like a good racket. Hell, he had thought he was doing fine…and then **SHE** showed up. That pretty little girl, with the schoolgirl's uniform, pigtails and innocent face who was in near tears because she claimed she'd lost her mommy and daddy. Daniel had felt sympathy for the little girl and offered to let her use his cell phone to call them. The last thing he could clearly recall was reaching into his pocket for his phone…and realizing she had stuck a massive silencer attached to a 9mm semi-automatic pistol in his mouth. Everything else was kind of blurry. The counselor at the hospital told him he'd probably just blocked out the traumatic memory. He did know that she shot him right through the cheek. He recalled the pain, and collapsing to the lobby floor. Beyond that, it was rather fuzzy.

The next thing he knew, he'd come to, feeling like one of his ribs was broken. As it turned out, that was indeed the case. As well, his cell phone had been shattered by a bullet, right over that broken rib. Apparently, he'd been shot again, but the phone had somehow stopped the bullet, with the impact breaking his rib. The three other guys in the lobby were all dead with shots to the head. The security consoles all had bullets in them as well, and –he would learn later- all videotapes from the lobby cameras had been destroyed. He was bleeding from his cheek and had no idea when that crazy little girl would come back and possibly finish him off. Daniel might have been, in hindsight, an idiot to start working for Frank D'Amico. However, he was not stupid enough to wait around for that trigger-happy little kid to return. He bolted from the building. Once outside, he could have sworn he heard shots coming from the top floor –the penthouse was so high up, it was hard to tell and he was rather distracted by the fact he was bleeding and in pain. He did look up on hearing a weird noise in the predawn stillness and saw what he thought was a guy wearing some type of fucking _**jet pack**_ flying towards the D'Amico penthouse, followed by some type of crazy shooting –almost like a helicopter gunship Gatling gun. Daniel needed no further encouragement to continue putting as much distance as he could between him and his decidedly now former place of work. He didn't stop until he'd reached the Emergency Room of St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital.

Afterwards, while recovering, he'd told the police nothing of any consequence. He said he'd been mugged on the street. He decided he didn't want to mention anything about that psychotic school girl and felt it was best to not mention a thing about what he did for the D'Amico Organization. Luckily, his paychecks and tax forms all listed him as a legitimate employee of the D'Amico Building itself, so there was nothing to officially tie him to the criminal side of things. Afterwards, a former associate had visited him and told him that the rumour on the street was that Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass had literally massacred the entire organization and blown their former boss out the window with a bazooka. Hit-Girl…as soon as he heard that, he'd started to tremble; he realized that had to be who shot him. He realized with even greater fear was that he'd seen her unmasked. Of course, he honestly couldn't remember or describe what she looked like. She was blonde, and that was about it. And, even if threatened with torture he couldn't and wouldn't say one thing about what she looked like. For starters, he couldn't recall accurately what she looked like, aside from her hair colour. And secondly, he had a feeling that she would gladly finish him off if given a reason or opportunity. Of course, by the time he learned that piece of information, he'd already decided it was time to make some changes in his life.

While recovering, he'd received a visit from his parish priest, from Church of the Holy Innocents, over on 128 West 37th Street. It had been his childhood parish and where he had now resumed attending weekly Mass. (Every Sunday at 10am, for over a year now, found him attending the weekly Tridentine Latin Mass the parish offered.) The priest had suggested his survival was a sign he should perhaps rethink the direction of his life and priorities. Daniel had taken that advice seriously. By the time he was discharged from the hospital, Daniel Malone had decided to totally separate himself from any sort of illegal activities. In deciding what to do next, he thought that he'd always enjoyed cooking. So, he got a job at a bar and grill, and found he liked it and was pretty good at it. He liked it enough that he thought it would be a good career move. His next step had been to enroll at Star Career Academy where he was now studying cooking and restaurant management. In addition, he'd gotten hired as a commis at the bistro he was now employed at. In a couple of years he wanted to be a sous-chef in a nice restaurant. In five years, he planned to be a head chef. And, in ten years he wanted to own his own restaurant.

All in all then, Daniel Aloysius Malone's life was going pretty well, especially considering his past affiliations. He was on a good career trajectory and felt good about what he was doing. The only thing troubling him was his sleep. He had nightmares. More specifically, he still had nightmares about that little girl pointing that gun in his mouth. And realizing it had been Hit-Girl made it all the worse. He woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare at least twice a week. Encountering little blonde girls on the street could cause his heart to race in fear. And any girl wearing the colour purple…well, he had to restrain himself from screaming in terror and running the other way.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. Just the thought of that little girl could cause him to tremble in fear.

His self-reflection was interrupted by a knock on the door. Daniel went to look through the peep-hole…and his heart stopped. Standing outside, in the hallway, with a sinister looking smirk on her face…was Hit-Girl. Daniel Malone suppressed a piercing scream. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them praying he would awaken to find himself in his bed and this was just another nightmare brought on by his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Instead, she was still standing there. And, he must have made a sound –a whimper, or something- because her smirk widened and she waved to him through the peep-hole. Daniel backed away from the door, wondering if he should try to flee down the fire escape. As he struggled with this decision, he heard a loud noise and the lock on his door was blown inwards. There was a sound of a boot connecting with the door and it swung inwards. Daniel Aloysius Malone suppressed a high, girlish scream as his personal nightmare of purple death stood in his doorway. His panicking eyes focused on what she held in her hand, and his testicles shrunk up in more in mortal terror. She was holding a captive bolt pistol. That was how she'd blown in his door lock. She grinned as she realized he'd recognized her weapon. She raised a hand and smoothed her purple bangs.

"Hello friendo" She sneered in a fairly good imitation of Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh in _No Country for Old Men_. Needless to say, that was all Daniel Malone needed to decide his course of action.

He turned and bolted for the window and the fire escape outside. As he reached the window, he was momentarily puzzled by the sudden appearance of what seemed to be a very ripe watermelon sitting on the landing. Before he could figure out what exactly THAT meant, he heard the sound of something cutting through the air. He instinctively ducked as a glittering blade swept through the air above his head and neatly bisected the watermelon. Daniel suppressed yet another scream and looked up to see a figure in a green wetsuit (or now, what resembled a wetsuit) and mask, holding a _katana_ sword. Oh fuck, Daniel Malone thought to himself; Kick-Ass. Of course, he should have been expecting that if Hit-Girl was there. One of them simply wasn't mentioned any longer without the other.

"Good evening…citizen." Kick-Ass said pleasantly in a weirdly familiar style. It was as if he'd bumped into him on the street and exchanged pleasantries; rather than Kick-Ass nearly taking his head off with a samurai sword and his partner (and according to more than a few internet message boards, girlfriend) just busted in his door. "I think… Hit-Girl wants to… talk… to you about… something. I suggest…you…listen." Kick-Ass said, holding the sword in a manner that strongly hinted his options were take his chances with Hit-Girl or get a Sweeney Todd type of haircut.

Daniel Malone whimpered and turned around to face the petite purple death in his living room. She still had that frightening gleeful smirk on her face. In one hand she still held that really fucking deadly looking captive bolt pistol. In her other hand, she held a quarter.

"So tell me…friendo…What's the most you've ever lost in a coin toss?" She intoned to Daniel with that same frightening smirk on her face.

"Oh fuck…I don't know!" Daniel quaked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kick-Ass climb in his window, still holding that sword. He realized then that he was probably going to die sometime very soon.

"That is the wrong fucking answer there." Hit-Girl said solemnly as she flipped the coin. "Tails you win, heads you lose." She said casually. The coin (which unbeknownst to Daniel was a two-headed coin) landed in her gloved hand. She smiled and held out it for Daniel to see. "Aw, too bad; better luck next incarnation." She said as she took a step towards him moving the bolt gun towards his forehead.

"Hit-Girl…wait…just a minute." Kick-Ass said suddenly as Daniel whimpered pathetically.

"What? Don't you fucking tell me you want to ice him! Fuck it, we settled this already. You did rock, I did paper. Paper covers rock. I get to do him!" She sneered and brought up the bolt gun again.

"I'm not questioning…your victory…but I suddenly thought he might be of use…to us."

"What the fuck use is he? He's a D'Amico thug! The only use he'll be to anyone is afterwards and that's only if he's signed his organ donor card." She turned back to Malone who was listening to the exchange with eyes wide open with mortal fear. "Malone! Do a fucking solid for me and hold still for a second." She moved the bolt gun forward yet again.

"Hit-Girl"

"What the fuck, Kick-Ass? Is this your time of the month, or something. We've vowed to reduce every single person who worked for Frank D'Amico to compost. He's the last one on the list." She pulled a sheet of paper that had a skull and crossbones emblem on the top of the page from her back. Malone could see that red lines filled the whole sheet except for one name at the very bottom. (Dave and Mindy had written that up on the computer as part of their preparations for their little recruitment session.)

"But…our trap for tomorrow…needs…bait." Kick-Ass said as he looked Daniel Malone up and down the way a man in a fish market would regard a piece of swordfish steak.

Hit-Girl stopped and stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Yeah…That's a good idea. Malone!" She snapped suddenly.

"What?" Daniel whimpered. He had no idea what they were talking about, but so long as she wasn't going to finish her plan of killing him, he was on board for it.

"You've been trying to turn your life around, haven't you? You've been trying to go straight."

"I swear to Christ I have!"

"That's good. But, you need to make up for some of the things you have done. Don't you agree?" Hit-Girl said with a menacing nod.

"Oh God, yeah…you're right!" Malone pleaded.

"I'm glad you agree with me. We have a job for you then. You've heard about this sick fuck killing guys dressed as Santa?" Malone nodded dumbly in response. "Well, we're getting set to do something about that. We have a trap all set for him. We just need some bait. Can you guess who that is?" Hit-Girl asked with a smirk.

"Me?"

"Fuck, you got it right the first fucking time. Now, how would you like to make a deal?"

"Oh shit, I'll do anything you want!" Malone said in near tears.

"Good. Now, as you've probably figured out, we could fucking exterminate you like a bug if we wanted to. But, if you do this for us, we'll give you a rebate on your life. Do we have a deal?"

"Shit yeah!"

"Now, there are some motherfucking stipulations with that. We might just need your help in the future on little jobs like this. You can call it, going to work for the good guys for once. Kick-Ass, let's give him his new work uniform." She called to her partner.

Kick-Ass reached out Malone's window and dropped in a large cardboard box. He reached down with the tip of his sword and flipped it open. Inside, there was a familiar red suit, hat and fake beard. "We'll have something…extra…for you…tomorrow" Kick-Ass informed their new associate.

"Oh, and don't even fucking **dream** of backing out or double-crossing us. You see, we WILL track you down. And, even if we don't kill you, we can fuck up your life in ways you would not like. You want to own your own restaurant, don't you?"

"Yeah" Malone whimpered.

"Well, imagine if we let slip the little fact that you were a hired hand for a known mobster. Do you think that might affect you getting a liquor license for any establishment you might want to open? I'm betting it would. But hey, I'm sure customers would come to a place where they can't drink with dinner. I mean, it's not like there are OTHER restaurants in New York City, or anything. Do you fucking get my drift?" Hit-Girl asked with a steely tone to her voice. "You help us, we let you live and move on with this new life you seem to be working for. You don't, we will fuck you up and over in ways you cannot even imagine."

"I'll do what you want." Daniel Aloysius Malone said in a defeated voice. He once thought of himself as a tough guy. But, he realized now, he was outclassed by these two. As well, a part of him realized he did need to atone for his past sins. He was sure he could handle whatever they had planned for him.

"Fucking-A excellent." Hit-Girl said while nodding her head in approval. "We wrote down where and when you meet us tomorrow. And we'll have a friend who's going to make sure you get there on time. Don't try looking for us. We're going to look a little different when you get there tomorrow. But we will find you no problem." Kick-Ass moved to window and climbed out onto the fire escape. Hit-Girl crossed the room and followed her partner. "Don't forget what I've said. Sweet dreams!" She intoned with a wave of her gloved hand. With that, she and Kick-Ass ascended the fire escape and moved out of Daniel Aloysius Malone's line of sight.

Daniel Malone exhaled audibly and felt his knees start to buckle. He didn't know exactly what he'd gotten himself into. He did know that he was certain he would never cross Hit-Girl. She would flush him into the sewers without a second thought. For that matter, if they wanted to ruin his life, all they needed to do was reveal his past mob affiliation. That would definitely ruin his chances of getting a liquor license for the restaurant he wanted to open. And there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding without a license –not unless he wanted to open a greasy spoon lunch counter or something. No, he was going to do exactly what they wanted, he would…

His reverie was interrupted by a knock on his door frame and a voice calling out.

"Knock, knock! Oh my, what a mess they made. But, I daresay you're quite a fortunate fellow you're not in a similar condition." The newcomer said casually as he strolled into the apartment. He was a man of around 30, dressed…flamboyantly (he was wearing a fucking ascot, for crying out loud)…and was carrying a suitcase type bag over his shoulder and a smaller bag in his hand.

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name's Sammy. I'm a friend of Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass. They asked me to stay over here tonight and make sure you made it to your appointment with them on time tomorrow. So, I guess I'm your roomie, slash, sitter for the night." He said in giggly voice.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Get the fuck…" Daniel's diatribe was cut off by Sammy grabbing him by the collar in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled him close.

"Now listen to me, you piece of mobbed-up shit." Sammy said in a low growl, all traces of his light and casual manner were gone. "I can guess what you think of me, and quite frankly I don't give a fuck. Those two saved my life once and so far as I'm concerned anything they say goes. I am staying here tonight and you are going to be there on time tomorrow because I'm escorting you there before I head for Grand Central Station to head up to my sister's for the holidays. I really suggest you not try and push me. You might think I'm just some sort of pansy, and hey to be fair that's what I probably look like, but my old man used to beat me like a rented mule and I learned a lot from that. So…." Sammy released his grip on Daniel and his pleasantly breezy manner returned. "I've got some microwave popcorn and some DVD's for the night. Your choice, do you want _Sex and the City ever?_"

"No" Daniel mumbled in shock. This was the final straw. His day could not get any weirder or more intense. Just then, there was another knock where his door should be.

"Hello? Which one of you guys is Mr. Daniel Malone" The new caller was a man in work pants and jacket which identified him as working for Expert Locksmith Inc. He had a toolbox at his feet and was examining the broken lock with a critical eye.

"That's me." Daniel said weakly.

"That's fine Mr. Malone. I'm Ted from Expert Locksmith Incorporated. I'm here to repair your door lock.

"I didn't call you." Daniel said. Ted shrugged at his words.

"All I know is someone came by our shop over here and said to come here at this time to repair a lock. They paid for it all in advance and everything, so there's no charge for you. Weird though, they left this envelope to give to you. I was to say it was from your friend Anton Chigurh." Ted handed over to a slightly trembling Malone a plain white envelope. "That name sounds familiar to me…Hey, is there something wrong with your fridge?" Ted asked.

"What?"

"I mean, you've got a cut watermelon out on your fire escape. Is your fridge broken?"

Daniel looked out at his fire escape and saw that the watermelon Kick-Ass had bisected was indeed still out there. "I ran out of room." He just said.

"Hey, whatever works for you does the job." Ted said as he stripped off his coat and knelt down to begin his repair job.

Daniel opened up the envelope. Inside was a simple sheet of paper, neatly tri-folded. He opened it up to find a simple message typed out. It said 'Don't forget…we're watching.' He looked up, the shock apparent on his face. It had to be apparent because Sammy simply smiled and nodded. Daniel Aloysius Malone sank down on his couch and buried his head in his hands while his houseguest/watcher busied himself making microwave popcorn and the locksmith set about repairing the door. He figured his chances of still being alive at this time tomorrow were rather slim, he thought with a whimper.

Up on the roof, Dave and Mindy smiled broadly and high-fived each other after they climbed off of the fire escape.

Mindy touched a gloved hand to her ear, where her earphone was. She smiled as she listened in to the conversation in the apartment they'd just departed.

"Hey, Sammy's arrived and right bang on fucking schedule." She said as she relayed the information they were getting from the hidden microphone Sammy was wearing. "Whoa! I did not fucking expect that!" She laughed in response to the exchange she just heard.

"What is it?"

"Sammy can be a fucking badass when he wants to be." Mindy chuckled approvingly. "He's not taking any attitude from Malone." Mindy said as she related the entire conversation she'd heard.

"We have to get him something nice for Christmas." Dave said as he looked the roof's ledge to the street below.

"Damn straight." Mindy replied.

"The locksmith is here." Dave reported.

"Good. Hopefully our letter will be the final piece of encouragement for our buddy Malone."

"It should be." Dave said as he watched Mindy remove the carrying bag for her captive bolt pistol from her shoulder. "Mindy." He said softly, to be sure nobody could overhear him, on the very off-chance somebody was within ear shot.

"What?"

"You were fucking amazing in there." Dave said with genuine admiration. Mindy flashed a momentary smile and then returned to her customary smirk.

"Thanks. You were pretty good with that sword. Your timing was good and you cut the watermelon perfectly. You should use that when you come over for our barbeque on July 4th. You can cut up the watermelon for us."

"I'll do that. Man, I thought he was going to shit himself when you came through the door with the bolt pistol."

"Oh fuck, that was fun. I've wanted to use one of these things since I saw _No Country for Old Men_."

"You did a great Anton Chigurh line too."

"Well, you've got to have the right lines when you're using a beautiful tool like this." Mindy said as she carefully packed up the bolt pistol.

"I liked your bit about the organ donor card."

"It just came to me."

"I thought for a minute you were really going to waste him."

"That's the idea. You stepped in just perfectly. He'd have volunteered to stick his dick to a frozen flagpole if you'd suggested it, he was so scared right then."

"Well, you're the one who had him that scared."

"To quote the great Heath Ledger as the Joker…"

"Hey, he was good, but Mark Hamill was better."

"Ok, I've got to agree on that. But still, as Ledger said, it's all part of the plan. He's so scared of one of us; he'll do anything the other says since the other one isn't as scary or as mean. It's classic. It's good cop, bad cop. You're the good cop and I'm the bad cop."

"Do you think I can ever be bad cop?" Dave asked hopefully. He saw Mindy look at him for a few seconds and then snickered. "Is that a 'no'?" he asked rhetorically.

"Aw Dave, don't take this the wrong way, but you're really not cut out to be the bad cop." Mindy said with what seemed to be genuine sympathy. He had to admit that she was probably right. He'd come a very long way in a year. But, when it came to simply being bad-ass, she still came out on top. Plus, there was something about her manner with thugs that made the bad cop role just fit her perfectly.

"I guess. But, at least we've got our Santa for tomorrow. So now, all we need is…the elf." Dave said with a smirk of his own. Mindy's face fell faster than a cement block thrown from the observation deck of the Empire State Building.

"Aw hell dude, do I really have to fucking do that?"

"Hey, we worked it all out. Santa needs an elf. Plus, one of us has to be close to Malone when the shit hits the fan. And, well, you're shorter." Dave suppressed a smirk as Mindy shot him a look that could have melted the hull of the space shuttle.

"Aw shit." She grumbled to nobody in particular.

"Hey, fair is fair. I wore that Yogi Bear outfit on our sting last August when it was almost 90 outside."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Mindy conceded. "I guess I have to."

"So, let's get back and get everything ready."

"Fine, but I swear to Christ if you make _**one**_ goddamn crack about wanting to be a dentist rather than make toys, I will pound you into the training mats until Thanksgiving!" She promised. Mindy mentally swore to herself that when they finally caught up to this madman, she was going to beat him back to the Stone Ages for causing her to have to do this.

"I wouldn't dare." Dave said while suppressing a smirk. He was definitely enjoying his best friend's agitation over the prospect of wearing an elf outfit. He secured the _katana_ sword on his back holster that was usually reserved for his batons and looked over to see that Mindy had her captive bolt pistol all packed up and ready to go. "Time to go home now and get things set up for tomorrow."

"You're going to say it again, aren't you?" Mindy sighed sarcastically. Dave grinned and nodded his head.

"Hit-Girl...back to headquarters!"

"You just fucking love saying that don't you?" Mindy said as they began to jog over the roof to the opposite fire escape where they would descend to the ground and then head over a block to where the Mistmobile was parked.

"Damn straight." Dave said with a grin.


	9. Chapter 9

_Greetings readers and Happy Saint Patrick's Day._

_Sorry I haven't gotten this up sooner, but work has kept me busier than usual the last several weeks. _

_This is the second to last chapter of this fic. The next chapter will be the Epilogue._

_Just a word to all you Dave/Mindy fans. This fic is laying the foundation for what's to come for them. I promise you that the next "Kick-Ass" fic I do -which I'm already starting to map out mentally- will deal much more explicitly with their relationship. That'll take place a few years after this one, when Mindy is a little older._

_I hope everyone enjoys the climax to this one._

_BTW, I refer to Mindy being a fan of _The Vampire Diaries_ due to the reason Chloe Grace Moretz is a self-professed fan and I thought it would be fun for Mindy to be a fan as well._

_OK, as you all know by now I'm a complete and total review addict. I beg of you to feed my addiction by reviewing this chapter._

_Happy reading everyone._

_And awayyyyy we go! :-D_

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part IX

Dave rolled over in his bed in the predawn darkness. Something was wrong. He could sense the room was not as dark as it should be. He forced an eyelid open and was struck by a most curious fact. The light on his bedside table was on and Mindy was seated calmly at his desk reading a comic.

"Mindy?" He groaned while still half-asleep.

"Morning" She replied without looking up from the comic.

"Mind if I ask why you're here this early?"

"I woke up and I couldn't get back to sleep. I'm too fucking psyched about taking down that douchebag Heffernan."

"We don't go out to the Village until this afternoon."

"I know…I still couldn't sleep. Oh, guess what?"

"What?"

"Apparently, we've been having sex." Mindy said in as matter of fact a voice as it was possible to get.

"WHAT?" Dave choked out as his eyes shot open.

"We've been having sex. And it was pretty intense sex too, by the looks of it. Here, check it out for yourself." Mindy smirked as she handed him the comic she'd been reading.

Dave looked at the cover. It was the latest issue of _Kick-Ass: the Comic_. He groaned in frustration. Ever since his debut as a costumed crimefighter, people had been trying to cash in on his image. Atomic Comics even had beverages named after him. Dave could understand that. He did irritate him somewhat that it was all unlicensed and he wasn't making a cent off of it. But, for him to make any money he'd have to come forward and likely reveal his identity. And THAT was simply out of the question. As well, he and Mindy were trying to instill fear amongst the city's criminal classes. For that, it helped to have an air of mystery since –as _Batman Begins_ pointed out- people fear what they don't understand. For him to have officially licensed products would definitely remove some of that fear from the image he and Mindy were working on.

So, there was nothing for him to do but bite the bullet when it came to all the merchandise with his likeness on it. The comic, though, was another story. It both irritated and amused him. As he had absolutely no input into the writing, it wasn't a terribly severe surprise that so many facts were wrong.

For starters, the backstory they gave him was that he was a spoiled rich kid who had gone to boarding school, until he learned his father was a mobster. So, he became Kick-Ass to redeem his family's honour.

Yeah, right. In Dave's experience rich sons of wealthy mob bosses tended to want to follow in their lowlife father's Gucci-wearing footsteps. Plus, if he were that rich, he would certainly have started out with a better costume and weaponry. That lowlife (See, sons DID take after their father) Red Mist knew that much at least.

And then there was the whole bit of him supposedly been his boarding school's boxing champion who had a hobby of going out at night to engage in bare-knuckle brawl streetfights out of boredom. Again…yeah, right. That video of his first successful act as a costumed vigilante where he got the shit kicked out of him should have tipped everyone off. (He called it successful because he compared it to his previous outing, where he got stabbed and run over by a car. After that, it wasn't a terribly hard thing to call his next efforts an improvement.) Did he seriously look like a guy who was a champion boxer and back-alley brawler? Not to mention the year that followed where he took beatings on the street when he and Mindy began their official partnership…followed by more beatings from her when they trained. Now, more than a year later he could probably look a lot more like a top boxer when he fought. He knew he wasn't THAT good, at least not yet. But, he was on his way. Dave thought that by the time he graduated high school the following spring, he would definitely be that good.

In recent issues, the comic book had introduced Hit-Girl as a character. That was inevitable, he supposed. All the internet forums on superheroes had them linked together. To be honest, Dave actually liked that. He liked the idea of being part of a team. And there was literally nobody in the world that he would rather have teamed up with than Mindy. The worst part, he'd found, about being a costumed vigilante was the isolation. There was nobody you could talk to. There was nobody you could trust. Dave knew that he could never have continued as Kick-Ass all on his own. The psychological and emotional toll was just too much. It was that need to have someone to confide in that led him to the mistake of trusting Red Mist.

But now, he was part of a team. It was the exact opposite. Now, he and Mindy could –and did- talk about pretty much everything that they'd done or thought of while on patrol. Dave thought of the cliché of the hero and sidekick (Although that analogy wasn't at all fair, since he and Mindy had evolved into a team of equals.). It had begun in 1940 when Robin was introduced into the Batman comics. Dave was enough of a comic book fan to know that the writers then had a double-motive. It would give the young readers a character they could relate to. And, it allowed Batman –at a time before Alfred Pennyworth was even introduced- to have someone to have expositionary dialogue with to show how smart he was. Dave also knew that many so-called "purists" disliked the idea of Robin, as they thought the idea of a guy like Batman needing a partner to be just wrong. Dave disagreed. He actually thought it was a display of verisimilitude for Batman to have a partner. Doing it on one's own eventually would wear you down. Perhaps, he thought, Damon Macready had known this all along. It was why he'd known from the start that Mindy would be his crimefighting partner.

Still, the comic rendition of Hit-Girl was rather hard to reconcile with the reality. The art was more or less accurate. The first issues had her hair looking more of a natural dark shade than purple and done in a ponytail. However, it had evolved into her familiar purple colour and pageboy cut after an issue or two.

The backstory that she'd been given…that was something else entirely. Dave wasn't sure if he should laugh or weep over it. According to the comic, Hit-Girl was the daughter of top CIA agents who'd been murdered while posing as missionaries in Asia. She'd been taken in and raised by a clan of Ninjas before returning to the United States to seek revenge on her parent's murderers. She was a weapons expert as a result of her parent's teachings and a martial arts master from her foster Ninja family. Actually, Dave thought…Considering what he knew Mindy was capable of, that backstory wasn't totally illogical in its assumptions. Dave had, after a year of this sort of thing, learned to just accept how distorted the comics made him out to be. Mindy, though, had only recently had her alter-ego enshrined in the comic book pages. It was fair to say, she was still getting used to the adjustment.

"Read it, and be ready to fucking blow chunks!" She growled. "Apparently, after I saved your life in the warehouse, I tracked you down and demanded that you –and you'd better believe me that I'm quoting here- 'pleasure me in the French Arts." Mindy ranted.

Dave looked through the comic and found the pertinent pages. Hit-Girl had followed Kick-Ass back to his headquarters –which, naturally, was in a mansion up in Westchester County. She found him in his bedroom and pretty much demanded that he fuck her brains out. Dave could see why Mindy might be a little perturbed at that. He flipped the page and his eyes bulged out of his head. "Whoa! THAT is explicit! What the fuck…"

"Yeah, I know. And look at what they think I look like!" She pointed at the artwork. "They gave me red hair, for Christ's sake!"

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'?" They made into a goddamn GINGER for fuck's sake!" Mindy continued to rant. Dave looked at the comic page again and saw that the artist's rendition of Hit-Girl's civilian identity did indeed have red-orange hair. Dave groaned and rubbed his eyes. This was all a little heavy for him to take in so early in the morning when he'd just woken up.

"Maybe they were trying to go for a Mary-Jane Watson thing." Dave offered sheepishly. He was actually finding this somewhat entertaining. He knew Mindy was a passionate person. It was one of the reasons she was so good at what they did. She simply channeled the passion she felt for the mission into her herself and turned it into effort. He knew Mindy could be that way about the crucial matters they dealt with in their chosen careers. But this…This was different. It was all about how some comic book writers and artists saw them. It might be irritating but it really had no impact on either their masked lives or their private lives. As well, over the year of their working together, he was usually the one who got overexcited and Mindy had to bring him back down to earth –at least he'd been like that in the first months of their partnership. Now, it was rather amusing to see Mindy get so bent out of place over a comic book.

"Come on Mindy, it's not that bad. Look at how they make me out to be. It's nothing like I am."

"Oh yeah, look at you. They draw you as blonde, built like Dolph Lundgren, and drive a Porsche. While they make ME into a slutty Lindsay Lohan look-and-act-a-like who's so fucking skanky she pretty much assaults you in your bedroom, strips off her costume –and you'll note she's depicted at not wearing ANYTHING underneath the outfit- and pretty much has you fuck her until the dawn's early light! Shit, it's almost as bad as how Frank Miller wrote Selina Kyle as originally being a goddamn prostitute!"

"It's just a comic book."

"A comic book that depicts Hit-Girl as a super skank who demands sex for saving Kick-Ass' life, and who apparently likes to take it up the ass too." Mindy sputtered with an annoyed grimace.

"What?"

"It's on the next page."

"Ah" Dave said flipping the page and seeing his comic book representative doing something with the faux Hit-Girl that Katie had never even him let try with her. Overall, he was starting to see where Mindy might be perturbed. "I'm sorry Mindy."

"Why? You didn't write this shit." Mindy sighed as her anger had apparently expended itself.

"I don't know. I just…I hate to see you upset over this." Dave said softly as he moved over and patted the side of his mattress. Mindy rose from the desk and padded over to the bed and sat down on the edge. "It took me a while to get used to being shown in all these weird ways, but I just got used to it. It's like you said, nothing is worth jeopardizing our secret identities for. So, we can't do a thing about it. And, when you think about it, if people somehow get the idea we're actually like this, then it's all the better because then they'd never look at you or me thinking we could be who we really are." Dave said with what he hoped was a supportive smile. He really didn't think too well at this hour of the morning when he'd just woken up. He'd learned to react physically fast on waking up…saying comforting words to an upset and angry Mindy was something else entirely. As it turned out, he needn't have worried. Mindy's scowl was replaced by a faint smile.

"How the fuck did you get to be so smart?"

"It's all about association. I hang out with someone who's really smart and totally awesome. I guess it rubbed off." Dave smiled at her.

"You're not doing too badly on your own." Mindy said.

"Thanks" Dave replied as he pulled her into a quick hug.

Mindy's breath caught in her throat as she felt Dave's arms wrap around her. It was only through her years of training discipline and self-control that prevented her from reacting in a way he would notice. She had told Dave that she hadn't been able to sleep due to being excited over the coming take-down of the Santa Claus Strangler. That was true…but not the whole story. She had read the comic the previous night, before going to sleep. Apparently, that was a mistake in hindsight. Her dreams had been plagued with dreams of what she'd read. She'd dreamed of her and Dave doing exactly what was shown in the comic. She'd woken up in a sweat, taking a few seconds to realize she was in her own bedroom…alone. It was a few more seconds later that she realized she was actually disappointed it had only been a dream. THAT was when the insomnia set in. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw herself in the dream…doing IT with Dave. And the strangest part was…she liked it. She liked it a whole lot. Finally, she'd given up on sleep and come over to Dave's house in the hope that seeing and talking to him would drive such things from her head and reassure her it was only a stupid dream. Instead, Dave's touch was electrifying to her and she had to stop herself from whimpering. And there was that tingly sensation again, only much stronger. This was worrying her…but made her feel so good at the same time. She looked at Dave and smiled. "Thanks." She said simply.

"Anytime; now, want some breakfast before we suit up and go over things again?"

"Sure." Mindy replied and stepped away from the bed and walked downstairs to allow Dave to get up and put on his clothes.

Twenty minutes later, Dave and Mindy were seated in the Lizewski kitchen, eating some Cream of Wheat cereal, washed down with a protein shake.

"I wonder how our old buddy Malone enjoyed having Sammy as his houseguest last night?" Mindy mused.

"I don't know. Sammy seemed anxious to help us out. Oh, and get this…He wants to help out when we go to work today."

"What?"

"I'm serious. He sent me a text message late last night. He said he wants to help out if he can."

"What can he do?"

"He knows how to use a camera, I think."

"Yeah, I mean he's pretty much told us about some of the pictures he's done for his…clientele."

"Fuck, I'm always afraid he's going to try and show us his 'portfolio'." Mindy said with a roll of her eyes.

"You don't want to see his pictures?" Dave chuckled.

"I think I can go pretty much my whole life without seeing them." Mindy replied sarcastically.

"I think I have to agree. So, how about we have Sammy be Santa's official photographer?"

"Fuck, Dave, that's a good idea."

"You think so? I guess it's better than one of us doing it."

"Oh, hell yeah it's better. It lets both of us watch the crowd. And, you get to stay hidden and keep your costume on."

"And you get to focus on being Santa's elf." Dave teased.

Mindy's knuckles turned white around her spoon that and she narrowed her eyes dangerously and glared at her partner. "Dude…You are SO lucky that this is going to be a two-person operation. Otherwise you'd be on the floor now and you'd be getting your cereal through a suppository."

Dave laughed at her threat. "That sounds like something they'd have in the comic book." He said with a chuckle as he reached for his protein shake.

"Please. Don't mention that fucking not-so-funny book. I'm trying to eat." Mindy growled even though she was fighting to keep a smirk off her face. It was amazing to her how often Dave could cut through her bad moods and get her laughing again. In her opinion, he was the main reason she hadn't totally gone batshit insane by this time.

After finishing their breakfast, Dave and Mindy descended the steps into the cellar –or, as they termed it, the entrance to their lair. Once seated in front of the computer, they pulled out a large gym bag.

"Let's see here. I think we have everything we'll need. Can you read off the list?" Dave said as he rummaged through the bag's contents. Mindy nodded and reached for a pad on the desk.

"Camera?"

"Check"

"Handcuffs?"

"Check"

"Neck guard?"

"Check. And I painted it red and white so it'll be almost impossible to see under the suit and fake beard."

"Good fucking thinking." Mindy said. "I think that about covers it."

"Is everything else over at your place?" Dave asked. They'd initially planned to meet up there, before Mindy had decided to drop in for breakfast.

"Yeah, my outfits are there. The make-up kit is there too. Oh, are we going to take the Mistmobile over into Manhattan?"

"I really don't want to. It just…stands out too much. At least, it would in the middle of the day when there's a lot of traffic around. At night, it's not so bad. I really don't want anyone to see us leaving or going back to the car afterwards."

"I was thinking about that too. Marcus said he'd give us a ride over if we wanted it."

"He did?"

"Yeah, he told me last night. I think that he's going a little stir-crazy on medical leave. His captain told him he can come back to work if he wants to, but only desk duty until his ankle's all better."

"Cool. That'll be a help. It saves us having to find parking over there too."

"Yeah, but I so have to get him some better CD's to play." Mindy grumbled as Dave laughed.

"If he likes Hanson, I'm surprised he doesn't listen to Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus." Dave snickered as Mindy's eyes went wide with fright.

"Do not even fucking think of going there." She said with mock-terror over her adopted father's apparent complete lack of taste in music, as she and Dave began to pack up their equipment to take over to Mindy's place.

An hour later, Dave was waiting outside Mindy's bedroom door. She was –after as much delaying and hesitating as she could do without beginning to affect their timetable- putting on her detested elf costume. Seated in a chair in the hallway, with his left ankle in a fiberglass walking cast, was Marcus. He was fiddling with an adjustable metal cane that had been provided to him by the hospital upon his release.

"Mindy? Are you all set?" Dave called out.

"I swear, if you say one word…" Mindy said in an ominous tone from inside her room.

"I promise." Dave said with a grin.

"You'd better…" Mindy said as she opened the door to her room and emerged into the hallway.

Dave took a minute and visually appraised Mindy. She was dressed head to toe in a thin looking outfit of festive green. The material was relatively thin because she had her purple Hit-Girl costume on underneath. On her feet she wore a pair of pointy-elf shoes. And a green hat was perched on her head. It was the perfect picture of a Christmas elf…If one was able to discount her facial expression which was of chained homicidal rage and humiliation at having to wear the outfit.

"Wow, Mindy, you look…."

"Say it! I dare you! I double-dog dare you…" Mindy growled. "If you say, I look 'adorable' or something like that, I'll…"

"I'd never say that Mindy." Dave said while biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. In truth, he thought she did look adorable. However, he had a pretty good idea of what would happen to him if he dared say it.

"I would though." Marcus spoke up from his chair. Mindy turned suddenly to face him. She'd been so worried about what Dave would say about her appearance that she never noticed Marcus sitting there. "You do look adorable, Mindy." He said. And then, before either Dave or Mindy could realize what was happening, he pulled a digital camera from where it was concealed on his lap, beneath the flap of his cardigan sweater, and took a picture of Mindy.

"Marcus!"

"Ok, one more to make sure I got it, if you please." Marcus chuckled as he took a second picture of her." He reviewed the pictures he'd just taken and smiled as he saw they were perfect. He couldn't wait to make them his screensaver. They might even be next year's Christmas card. Of course, he knew that he was the only person who could have done that and escaped Mindy's wrath. He chuckled to himself as Mindy gave him a glare that had turned gunmen into quaking piles of excrement. "Dave, I'll e-mail you these when I get them on the computer." He said as Mindy looked even more horrified now.

"Thanks Marcus." Dave said through clenched teeth as he was really fighting now to keep himself from laughing out loud. He put a comforting hand on Mindy's shoulder. "Mindy…think happy thoughts now. We're going to go get a bad guy." He said in a comforting tone. Mindy exhaled loudly.

"Yeah…We're gonna get the strangler." She said to herself as if she was trying to center herself. "Ok, I just have to get my make-up on and we can go." She said as she walked down to the bathroom. She left the door open as she pulled a make-up kit from below the vanity. Dave walked down the hall to see what she was doing while Marcus hobbled downstairs.

Mindy rummaged through the kit as she looked for what she needed. First she found some cotton wads and placed them on either side of her mouth. That served to make her cheeks seem much fuller than they actually were. Next, some small bits of facial putty were applied to either side of her nose. The result was her hose seemed slightly broader and of a different shape than it was in reality. Finally, she tied her hair up into a bun with a hairnet and placed a dark brown wig of shoulder length hair on top her of head. The end result was that the girl wearing the elf costume simply did not look like Mindy Macready.

Dave and Mindy had decided on this when they realized that Daniel Malone would be seeing Mindy without her Hit-Girl costume on for a second time…and this time he might have the time to actually notice what she looked like. Thus, they thought a subtle way of disguising her features might be optimal. As well, in case anyone was taking pictures at the street party, if Mindy's picture was taken it wouldn't be recognized as her. (As well, it was in case someone thought to perhaps connect the fact that the elf had disappeared when Hit-Girl made her later appearance.) Of course, Dave could see that it was her, but that was because he knew what to look for. Some casual observer would never realize that the elf had gone to the trouble of wearing a facial disguise. The bonus of the wig was that it allowed Mindy to already have her hair pulled up into a bun. So, when the time came all she had to was yank off the dark wig and replace it with Hit-Girl's iconic purple wig.

"You look great Mindy." Dave said as he appraised his partner's skill at facial disguise.

"Thanks." She replied. "How's my voice sound with the cotton?"

"It sounds great. It doesn't sound like you exactly…but nobody would ever know that. And it doesn't sound like you're trying to disguise it either."

"That's great. It's just what I wanted. How's the costume look? Can anyone tell what we've done?" Mindy asked as Dave looked over the seams of her outfit.

"I can't see how. I mean, if they knew just what to look for, they could probably spot something. But, I don't think anyone would be looking that closely." Dave said as he ran his eyes over the seams of her elf costume. The two of them had cut the elf costume in half and sewn Velcro into the seams of the two halves. It was the Velcro that was holding the seams together now. All Mindy would have to do was give a good pull and the costume would come neatly apart, revealing the Hit-Girl costume that was concealed underneath it, with her cape wrapped around at her waist. She had her wig, mask and gloves concealed under in deep pockets in the elf costume. Those items would go on when the time came, before she ripped the rest of her disguise away.

"That's fucking sweet. Are you good to go?" Mindy asked.

"I just have to put on my outfit. I'll put a pair of old sweats on over it, and then ditch them when I'm in position."

"The Friars moved the church's van to where we want it?"

"I called the rectory while you were changing. The church van is positioned right where we said and it's unlocked. I'll just have to get in, ditch the sweats and I'll be ready as soon as it goes down."

"Good. And Kick-Ass suddenly appearing should give me enough of a distraction to find some cover and change." Mindy said in a voice tight with excitement over the prospect of finally apprehending the Strangler. "We're going to do it, aren't we? We're taking this motherfucker down."

"As a certain crimefighter I know would say, damn straight." Dave grinned as the two bumped knuckles. "Do you mind if I go change in your room?"

"Yeah, go ahead." Mindy replied as she made final adjustments to her wig.

Dave walked back to Mindy's room, shut the door and set about pulling his costume out of the gym bag he'd brought from home. He looked around the room. Everytime he was in here he was always amazed at the contrast presented. Mindy was, without a doubt, the most extraordinary person he'd met in his whole life. Yet, her bedroom looked like it belonged to the most ordinary girl in the world. He wondered what her bedroom looked like when she lived with her father. This bedroom was done in a purple hue and was filled with items any other girl her age might have. There was a bed, a desk, a bookshelf that contained various texts on martial arts as well as more mundane reading material. He noted with amusement the book that was on her bedside table. It was one of L.J. Smith's series _The Vampire Diaries_. The book series and television show were the only guilty pleasure Mindy allowed herself. It was actually the only show Mindy watched. Dave was rather afraid to watch it. He feared it would be too much like _Twilight_ and sequels. He shuddered at the memory of when Katie had dragged him to see those films. His vampire tastes were more along the lines of _True Blood_, which Mindy also watched with him on DVD if she was over.

It was always hard to reconcile the hard as nails Hit-Girl with the Mindy who hung out at Atomic Comics with himself, Todd and Marty. Dave thought to himself he was immensely lucky that he had such a great person in his life, as he began to pull his costume on.

Two hours later, Mindy was waiting at the parking lot of Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua. She was dressed completely in her elf outfit and was fuming. She felt like a complete fucking tool. She was Hit-Girl; the most badass crimefighter in the country. (Even Dave concurred that while they were equal partners, she was definitely tops in the badass department.) And she was dressed like a goddamn North Pole elf! Fuck it, even Will Ferrell didn't look as stupid as she felt in this getup. If she had to be an elf, why couldn't she be a cool elf, like Arwen from _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy? (Fuck, she thought, she was definitely hanging out with the Atomic Comic crowd too much if she was comparing herself to a J.R.R. Tolkien character. Geekdom must be contagious.)

She looked up West Houston Street and breathed a sigh of relief. She saw Daniel Aloysius Malone –looking pale and nervous- being escorted down the street by Sammy. Sammy must have realized it was her, and he waved at her while nudging Malone forward.

"Why Hit-Girl, don't you look festive today." Sammy chirped as they reached her.

"This is Hit-Girl? She looks like some type of fucking elf." Malone said rather densely.

"Malone," Mindy growled as she fought to keep her temper under control. "I am so not in a good mood. You say one fucking smart word about how I'm dressed, and so help me Christ, I will pour liquid nitrogen on your dick and balls…and then reach for a baseball bat. Are we five by fucking five here?"

"Hey, hey…I get you. I get you." Malone said as he raised his hands in what he hoped would be interpreted as a peaceful gesture. He was VERY stressed out. The previous night's encounter, followed by an unexpected houseguest had left him emotionally spent. About the only upside was that apparently Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl had paid for repairs to his door and he'd actually enjoyed the _True Blood_ DVD's Sammy had brought with him.

"Glad we're on the same fucking page. Now, let's go inside the parish hall. You need to change." Mindy said as she gestured to the bag with the Santa Claus outfit they'd provided the previous night. Sammy picked up the bag and gestured to Malone and they followed the disguised Hit-Girl into the parish hall.

Once inside the hall, Mindy pulled something out of a bag of her own. It looked much like a paramedic's cervical collar –which in truth, it was- only it was painted red and white.

"Malone, kneel down so I can put this on you."

Malone complied, as he looked at the strange object. "What is that thing?"

"It used to be a cervical collar." Mindy said as she fitted it around his neck and fastened it tight.

"Why do you want me to wear it now?" Malone asked nervously.

"Sammy…Can you try and see what happens if you put a forearm choke on him?" Mindy calmly asked as Malone's eyes bugged.

Sammy complied. He stepped behind Malone, reached around and tried to apply pressure to Malone's windpipe with his forearm.

"So, are you feeling anything Malone?" Mindy asked with an arched eyebrow.

"No. Well, I mean I can tell he's doing it. But it's not choking me out, or anything." Malone said as his eyes lit up with realization.

"That's what you're wearing it for. When our guy tries to work his magic on you, this is your life insurance. You didn't think we'd let someone we have so many plans for, get himself strangled on his very first job for us, did you?" Mindy said with a sneering tone. They actually only planned to use Malone in extreme conditions where a third person was needed; however there was no reason to tell Daniel Aloysius Malone that little tidbit.

"Sammy, you'll be our photographer today."

"I know. Kick-Ass sent me a text about that before to give me a head's up. Where is he, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He's in his stake-out position already. You're going to be in touch with him by cell phone. You'll wear this." Mindy said as she handed Sammy a Bluetooth mobile earpiece. "I can't wear anything because it would look suspicious. You'll be the link between him and me. So, needless to say…don't screw up."

"You can count on me." Sammy said as he fitted the earpiece onto his right ear and began to examine the camera equipment he'd be using.

"I figured. Now, Malone, we have something for you too. Do you know what this is?" She held out a small box with a speaker and a safety tag inserted into the top

"Isn't that one of those personal alarm sirens?" Malone said.

"Bra-fucking-vo. If the shit hits the fan, you pull out the tag and our boy will be hearing 130 decibels worth of siren."

"What happens then?"

"You just ride it out, let the collar do its job and wait for the cavalry which will be coming directly. Kick-Ass will come first from his stake-out position. I'll need thirty seconds to get ready. So, we'll both be there in more than enough time. Do you have any other questions?"

"No"

"Awesome. You go Santa-suit-up and we'll meet you outside. It looks like the kids are starting to show up. Hope their moms took them to the bathroom before they get on your lap." Mindy smirked as she exited the hall while Malone processed this new thing to think about.

Two hours later, and Mindy felt like she was ready to strangle someone herself. She'd never given much thought to the people who worked as elves for shopping mall Santa Claus', but now she had to admit she respected them…or at least felt sorry for them. Having to escort screaming, crying and/or demanding kids back and forth to a man in a red suit –who was currently seated on a makeshift platform in front of the main steps to the church- was definitely a tiring line of work.

And the kids…she thought that there were some parents who really should teach their offspring better manners. In addition to the screaming and occasional demands, she had a couple of boys –who couldn't have been more than ten years old- ask if she wanted to play any reindeer games with them…the emphasis was on the word 'games'. She wondered if they could have handled doing what she did when she was ten. She rather doubted it. She looked over to the church van which was parked in a way that it gave a panoramic view of the street party, and especially the Santa platform. Dave was waiting inside, communicating with her through Sammy –who was apparently in his element snapping pictures while telling the kids to "work it" and "love the camera". She figured she should remind him…again…that he was taking pictures of children seeing Santa.

Dave was scanning the crowd, from inside the van, when his eyes focused on something that definitely wasn't there before…as his breath caught in his throat. Parked across the street was a brown WPS delivery van. He looked around for their suspect, but he couldn't get a visual on Heffernan. He reached for his cell phone.

"Sammy!" He called urgently, forgetting to do either his Adam West imitation or his attempt at a Bale-type growl.

"I'm here, Kick-Ass." Sammy replied, turning briefly to face him across the way.

"Tell Hit-Girl that there's a WPS van parked here now. It might be our guy."

"I'll pass it on."

Mindy was just escorting a rather intense looking child with a cowboy hate away from Malone after making his Christmas wish. The child was complaining. "Why can't I get an M-16 rifle for Christmas? It's in my Second Amendment rights!"

Mindy and Malone simultaneously sighed and chorused. "You'll shoot your eye out kid!" Mindy suppressed a giggle. Maybe Malone was starting to grow on her. She saw Sammy waving to her from the camera position. "Sammy wants to talk to me. Do you want to take a break for five minutes?" She asked Malone quietly.

"Yeah, I've gotta take a leak."

"That's way too much information than I needed, but knock yourself out." Mindy replied as she walked over to Sammy. Malone stood up and said to the children waiting. "Santa will be back in five minutes children. Ho-ho-ho, don't you worry." He said to them with forced joviality as he descended the platform in search of a men's room.

"What is it Sammy?" Mindy asked as she stepped over to their volunteer photographer who was looking nervous and scanning around with his eyes.

"Kick-Ass wanted me to tell you that there's a WPS van here now. He thinks that the man you want is here." Sammy said as Mindy's eyes went absolutely wide at the news.

"Fuck! It's going to go down! Shit, I've got to find Malone before…" She never finished her sentence as the alarm siren went off.

Daniel Aloysius Malone was, to his great surprise, actually not minding doing his part in the sting after all. He realized he was making up for a lot of wrongdoing in his past employment for Frank D'Amico. As well, he actually enjoyed playing Santa for the kids…that crazy kid who wanted the M-16 notwithstanding. He was still worried about being the bait, but he figured that enough precautions had been taken that his survival chances were definitely a bit better than he'd originally figured. He was mentally composing a menu for the next dinner he'd prepare for his culinary class, and walking past some hedges when it happened. From behind, he was hit by a heavy blow as a large body hit him with a check. His stumbling forward from that position was arrested by a cord being wrapped around his throat. Through the collar he was wearing, he could feel that pressure was being applied. For a brief instant, he panicked and tried to pull the cord off. Then, he remembered that his throat was protected…and who was watching his back. He reached for his belt, where the personal alarm was hooked, grabbed the tag and pulled it out sharply. A deafeningly loud siren reached his ears as the alarm activated.

Mindy heard the siren and looked about for the source. Around the corner, she could see Malone, in his red suit, seemingly struggling with someone. To her side, the back doors of the van burst open and Dave –dressed in his own costume-shot out and began sprinting across the square to the source of the siren.

Mindy realized this was her cue. She sprinted off to behind the stage, reaching into her pockets as she went. Once concealed, she yanked the brunette wig off, slipped her mask over her face and set her purple wig on her head. She spat out the cotton wads from her mouth and pulled the putty from around her nose. She reached up and grabbed the front ends of her elf costume and pulled both sides down. As planned, the two sides came apart and she shrugged them off as she began to run to the sound of the commotion while pulling her gloves on. All around her, there was panic. The noise of the siren, the screams it had provoked and the sudden appearance of Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl had combined to turn the street party into a fright fest.

Dave was charging towards the source of the siren. He saw Malone being jerked around by a strong looking man in a brown WPS jacket. He reached back and pulled his Eskrima sticks from his holster as mentally plotted out his next moves. He would use the sticks on Heffernan's wrists. He'd bring them down hard and break both of the guy's wrists. That should take him out. If that doesn't work, he'd go for the collarbones. By that time, he'd definitely be hurting and out of action –unless he was on something like PCP, but he seriously doubted that was the case. As well, Mindy would be there by that time. When that happened, it'd all be over.

What Dave never figured on was the Friar from the other night. He'd stepped out of the parish hall, right by Heffernan and Malone and taken the scene in at a glance. In horror, he felt he had to do something. What he didn't know was that he'd put himself between Heffernan and Kick-Ass.

"Harold…For God's sake don't do this. Let me get you some help." The priest said as he tried to help the situation in his own way. Heffernan looked over the priest's shoulder and saw Kick-Ass charging his way. With an angry growl, he hurled his prey –who he was surprised hadn't died yet- at the Friar. The two crashed together and stumbled back into Kick-Ass. Heffernan turned and bolted for his van.

Dave grunted as Malone and Friar crashed into him. They didn't hurt him, but knocked him back several feet and –worst of all- delayed him several seconds in his pursuit of Heffernan. Disentangling himself, he resumed his pursuit, frantically dodging around stunned and gawking bystanders.

Heffernan reached his WPS delivery van and jumped in. With a twist of the key, the engine roared to life and he took off with a screech of tires. However, in his frantic escape attempt, he smashed into a parked car and momentarily was pushing it along. It didn't stop his vehicle, but it did slow it down very much for a few seconds. It wasn't long…but it was long enough.

Dave saw the collision and the World Parcel Services van slow down to a momentary crawl. He realized this was his only chance. With a frantic burst of speed, he bounded into the street and jumped onto the van. Luckily for him it was a step-van that had large walk-in doors on both the driver and passenger sides. Heffernan had been so anxious to escape he'd neglected to close the passenger door. However, in grabbing hold of the handles to steady himself as the step-van rounded a corner, Dave was forced to drop his Eskrima sticks. Now, it was him against the Santa Claus Strangler…barehanded.

Mindy let out a string of vile profanities as she saw Dave leap onto the step-van and pull himself in while losing his weapons. Shit! She thought to herself. This was getting out of control. She had to find a way to go after them. Then, as if sent from Heaven as a gesture of gratitude for their efforts, Mindy saw it. Idling at the curb, its motor still running, as the helmeted driver was standing beside it, talking to an attractive girl on the sidewalk, was a motorcycle. And, it wasn't just any old motorcycle. It was a Ducati. It was a purple Ducati. It was simply calling to her.

She bolted over to the Ducati and leapt on it. The driver turned around in a double-surprise: both at someone jumping on his bike and his realization at who it was.

"Hey!"

"Sorry mister, but this is an emergency!" Mindy shouted as she revved the motor, knocked up the kickstand and took off after the WPS step-van which she could still see.

In the van, Dave was engaging in a fierce but limited fistfight with Heffernan. The guy was determined to get away. He was so determined to escape he hadn't taken his foot off the gas pedal since this mad drive had begun. They'd torn off onto West Houston Street, leaving 154 Sullivan Street well behind them. At 6th Avenue, Dave had been able to grab the wheel briefly to avoid a _New York Times_ delivery van, the result being they were continuing west on West Houston Street. Heffernan was driving hard blows into Dave's midsection with one hand, while keeping the other on the steering wheel. Dave, meanwhile was protected by the blows both from his Kevlar vest and his warped nerve endings. He was dealing out his own blows. His fists –protected by his weighted sap gloves- were returning the blows. Unfortunately, the poor footing from standing in a rapidly moving vehicle prevented him from putting any real force or weight behind the punches. The two combatants continued the stalemated fistfight as the step-van continued to careen down West Houston Street. At 12th Avenue, another fight for the wheel erupted. Dave was trying to turn them left, towards the Holland Tunnel entrance. He thought that the Port Authority Police at the Tunnel might be able to assist somehow. Instead, though, the step-van swung right and continued northwest, up 12th Avenue. Dave saw scenery shoot by the windows. He realized that he had to end this fight now. They were coming up to Hudson River Park. Dave decided it was now or never. He clapped Heffernan over his ears with one hand, while yanking the steering wheel hard to the left with the other. The step-van –with the accelerator still being pushed to the floor by Heffernan- shot across 12th Avenue, across the open spaces of the park and right off the jetty into the Hudson River. The WPS vehicle seemed to stand on its nose, and then flipped over upside down and disappeared under the cold waters of the Hudson.

Mindy, who was feeling like ice had been shot into her veins, brought her commandeered motorcycle to a screeching halt at the jetty and kicked down the stand. She'd been following close behind during the whole mad ride. Now, she felt a terror she didn't know she could feel as she watched the van settling in the river. Biting down on her lip, she waited for Dave to emerge from cab. Instead, the van toppled upside down and sank from sight.

Mindy reached behind her back and pulled a Coast L7 waterproof flashlight from her utility belt, stepped up to the breakwater and leapt off, feet first (as she didn't know what was under the water or just how deep it was) into the Hudson River.

Mindy splashed into the water. It was only with an effort that she maintained her hold on her breath. The water was icy cold. She didn't know how long she'd be able to stay in it before she'd be hypothermic. Turning on her flashlight, she could see the van just below and ahead of her in the murky Hudson. To her relief, she saw a flash of green in the gloom and the green seemed to be moving. She kicked down to the van, which was under about nine feet of water, sinking faster than she would have thought until she realized that the Kevlar she was wearing was meant to stop bullets. It was never meant to be worn while swimming.

Reaching the upturned van, she saw Dave wasn't trapped but was trying to pull an unconscious Heffernan from the vehicle. The strangling suspect seemed to have his brown WPS jacket caught on something. As Mindy approached, Dave spotted her. Feeling an inhuman level of relief that Dave seemed alright, she pointed her thumb up to the surface. She figured Dave had been underwater for a lot longer than her and had to be in need of some air. Dave kicked off to the surface while Mindy took his place in trying to free Heffernan.

Dave's head broke the water and he took a deep gulp for the cold air. He was amazed he wasn't feeling the cold water like he thought he would be. He figured that either his nerve endings worked on icy river water as well, or maybe his adrenalin levels were so high, he just wasn't feeling the cold yet. It was a shame he wasn't wearing his old wetsuit. Then he'd be set. No matter, they had to get Heffernan free and then get out of the river. He took a deep breath and dove back under.

At the van, Mindy was pulling one of her knives from her belt as Dave reached her. He automatically took the light from her hand and held it for her, allowing her the use of both hands for the knife. She reached back into the van and quickly cut away the part of Heffernan's jacket that was trapped in the vehicle. He popped free and the two crimefighters each grabbed an arm of their suspect and kicked up to the surface.

Mindy gasped from both her exertion and the cold as her head broke the surface. She looked over at Dave and saw that he seemed alright. They swam towards the breakwater, towing their unconscious suspect.

"You get on out." Dave said to her at the wall.

"No, you go first." Mindy replied.

"I'm OK."

"No, you've been in longer." Mindy said through teeth that were starting to chatter. "And you can pull him out better than I can."

"Oh…right." Dave said as he pulled himself up and out of the water. Reaching down, he grabbed Heffernan's wrists while Mindy held him to the wall. Dave pulled the wrists down over Heffernan's chest and pulled him up and out of the water. Then he reached down and helped pull Mindy out. The two collapsed on the ground for a few seconds, recovering their breath after their cold and exhausting immersion. Dave saw that a FDNY ambulance had spotted the accident and the two paramedics were running over from 12th Street, carrying their gear. Mindy just coughed and pointed to Heffernan. Her teeth were chattering too much to do anything else.

The paramedics rapidly assessed Heffernan and went through the ABC's. The first one began artificial respiration with a ventilator while the second was checking for a pulse. Then, Heffernan gave a violent cough and regurgitated water. The two paramedics turned him on his side as they confirmed Heffernan was breathing on his own again.

"You've called into your dispatcher?" Mindy finally asked as she found her voice.

"Yeah" Replied the second paramedic.

"The police are coming?" Mindy asked as she and Dave pulled themselves to their feet.

"They always do to accidents like this."

"Good. That guy is the Santa Claus Strangler. Tell them he just tried for another victim at Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua over at 154 Sullivan Street in the Village."

"This is the Strangler?"

"Damn straight. Don't let him get away."

"Oh, he's not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Good. It took a lot to catch him. Oh, can you give the police this?" Mindy asked as she tossed a key down beside the paramedics who were wrapping Heffernan in blankets while continuing to monitor his vital signs. "It's for that motorcycle over there. They'll see it gets back to the owner." Mindy said. She was sorry to give up the Ducati. It was a sweet ride…and just her colour too. One day, she was going to have to get her own purple Ducati.

Dave, meanwhile, finally finished coughing up river water and was able to speak again. "Hit Girl; back to headquarters." He rasped as he and Mindy turned and jogged out of Hudson River Park, their wet clothes and boots squishing. As they crossed 12th Avenue, they could see the approaching lights of police cars and fire department vehicles.

Once across the street and walking down Charles Lane, Mindy gestured for Dave to step into a deserted alley. He did so, wondering what she wanted. He soon found out.

"What the fucking hell did you think you were doing?" Mindy yelled as she slapped his chest with her sopping gloves.

"I was after him. I couldn't let him get away." Dave replied in a puzzled tone. He thought Mindy would be ecstatic over their capture of Heffernan. Instead she was yelling at him.

"FUCK! You took off on your own after him! You jumped into a motherfucking step-van with him! And THEN…You drove it right into the fucking Hudson River!" Mindy screamed. "You…asshole…Do you know how fucking horrifying it was to see that? I didn't know if you were dead under the water!" Mindy said as she fought to keep her voice calm.

"Hold on…You're angry and beating me up because you were worried about me?"

"Fuck yes!"

"But I'm alright."

"I know that now! I didn't know when I saw you crash into the river!" Mindy said. "Didn't you hear what I told you the other week? You're almost all I have left! I can't lose you!"

Dave looked at her as he processed her words. She was a sight. Her purple wig was wet and bedraggled. A few strands of her own wet hair were peeking out from under the wig. Her lips were almost turning blue and trembling from the cold. He looked at her intently. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I actually didn't plan on going in the river. I thought the grass, or the benches in the park would stop us before we reached the water. I supposed I miscalculated that a bit. Um, I was kind of scared myself, if that's any comfort." Dave said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"It IS, a little." Mindy said as she relaxed after having said her peace. She was shaken over how scared she was at the thought of something happening to Dave. It was the worst feeling she'd had in a very long time. "I'm sorry I acted all crazy just now. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me today." She sighed.

"It's ok. I'd have acted the same way, probably, if it'd been you in the van." Dave said as he remembered the fear he felt when Mindy had to leap into the mall fountain. He was beside himself with fear and worry until he saw her surface unharmed. He realized Mindy must have felt the same sort of sick terror. Looking up and down the alley he saw there was nobody around. He pulled Mindy into a hug and was amazed at how tightly she was hugging him back. Finally, they parted and realized how cold they both were now that the adrenalin had worn off.

"Well, how do we get home?" Mindy asked as she rubbed the arms in her wet uniform.

"I don't know. We can call my dad, or maybe…" Dave started to say until he heard the familiar sound of _MMMBop_ by Hanson filling the air. They looked towards the alley entrance and saw Marcus pull up in his car. He gestured for them to get in the back. They needed no further invitation. They sprinted down the alley and climbed in the back seat and crouched down.

"Thanks Marcus, but what're you doing here?" Mindy asked as they drove off

"I stayed over because I had a check-up on my ankle at Bellevue. I heard what was going on over the scanner I have. I thought I'd come looking for you two. Can I presume you two being all wet is connected to the report of a WPS van going into the river?"

"Yup, and we got him." Dave said proudly. Marcus' eyebrows shot into his hairline at the news.

"You did? Damn! You two really do impress me. Mindy…I think your dad would be really proud of you now." Marcus beamed at his adopted daughter.

"Thanks" Mindy said as she smiled at Dave. The two of them had removed their masks and her wig and were huddled down on the backseat.

"There's a blanket there for you two to cover up in. Stay down until we're out of the area. Man…This calls for some special music." He hit a button on the CD player and Hanson suddenly switched over to N'Sync. He began humming along.

In the backseat, Mindy rolled her eyes at Dave over Marcus' new music choice and shook her head sadly. Dave grinned at her and leaned over to her.

"We did it Mindy. We fucking did it." He whispered into her ear.

"Damn straight Dave. Damn straight." She whispered back with a smile. The smile was both over cracking their case AND the fact that she realized she liked how close Dave was to her. His cheek briefly brushed against her own, and she felt a shiver run through her body that she sensed was not due to her swim in the Hudson.

Dave, meanwhile, looked over and saw his partner. She was still trembling a bit from the cold and was sopping wet. But, for some reason, he couldn't help but think to himself how pretty she looked. Then he dismissed it as just the exhaustion and near-hypothermia talking.

The two partners huddled on the backseat, whispering to each other over Marcus' music playing and savoured their first victory as detectives as Marcus drove them home.


	10. Chapter 10

_Greeting, dear readers. Well, we've come now to the end of this fic. I do thank you all for tuning in and I hope you've enjoyed the fic. I've enjoyed writing it._

_I'll be working on some _Let Me In_ fics next. After that, I will be returning to Dave and Mindy for their further adventures. And, for all you Dave/Mindy fans, just so you know, Mindy will be older in that next fic. That means, things can start to happen with her and Dave. :-D_

_I hope all my fellow _Let Me In _fans and readers like the shout-out I put in this fic. :-D_

_Once again, we all know I'm a hopeless review addict. Please feed my addiction by reviewing. :-D_

_And awayyyy we go._

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Epilogue

Christmas Day had arrived, with a cold wind and flurries in the air. New York City –the city that never slept- was in holiday mode. Most travelling in the city was now simply people going back and forth to their relatives for Christmas celebrations. On the lips of many New Yorkers, was still the news, after more than a week, that the Santa Claus Strangler had finally been captured…and by a pair of costumed vigilantes, no less.

Dave was in his room, late on Christmas morning. So far, Christmas Day was going extremely well. He'd slept in –a rare treat for costumed crimefighter/high school student. He and his dad had made themselves their usual hearty Christmas breakfast. Now, he'd retired back up to his room to kick back and catch up on some stuff before the real festivities began.

Mindy and Marcus would be coming over later for dinner. He was looking forward to that. Family commitments were going to keep him busy in the coming week. He wasn't going to be able to do any patrolling as Kick-Ass. Mindy would likewise be busy with various members of Marcus' family. Thus, he and Mindy were looking forward to being able to hang out a bit

Dave was now seated at his desk, looking over some newspaper clippings. They were cut from the various daily papers over the last week, or so, and dealt with the capture of Harold Heffernan, aka The Santa Claus Strangler.

Dave arranged the clippings in chronological order. The first ones dealt with the near tragedy at the Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua street party. It detailed the attempted strangulation there, followed by the wild escape attempt that climaxed with the van going into the Hudson River and Heffernan's arrest –once he'd been released from the hospital, that is.

Heffernan had been duly informed of his right to remain silent, under the Miranda Act…and had almost immediately waived them. As Dave and Mindy had suspected, once he was confronted by the police he sang like a bird and told them everything. A search of his apartment revealed he had rolls of Christmas ribbons that matched exactly those found at previous crime scenes.

An interview with a psychiatrist showed his particular condition was indeed caused by the events of seeing his mother kissing a man in a Santa suit that she'd eventually leave his father for.

Heffernan, at his arraignment, had pleaded guilty to all charges. He was now in the system waiting to see if he would be sent to a prison or a psychiatric hospital. That was on hold until the New Year.

The Chief of Detectives for the New York Police Department was being raked over the coals in all the major media outlets. He was being grilled about why his detectives had been unable to track down the Strangler, but two costumed crimefighters were. The shit really hit the fan when word got out that the police had been given the name of the suspect weeks earlier, but had disregarded it because it had not come from one of their own detectives. The rumours were apparently flying that Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl had been the ones to initially identify the suspect and pass it on to the police. Dave had heard -through Marcus- that the Mayor was livid over 'a couple of kids in Halloween costumes' being more effective than NYPD detectives specifically assigned to the job of hunting the killer. Marcus had also heard office gossip that the Chief of Detectives was seriously considering retiring from the department now.

The Special Agent-In-Charge of the Bureau team for the Strangler Task Force was even more humiliated as his vaunted team of professional profilers was essentially outdone by a guy in a green wetsuit and a girl in a purple wig. Mindy had laughed at that and suggested they anonymously send the guy a DVD for Season 1 of _Criminal Minds_.

Right now, Dave was arranging the cutouts. They would go into a frame that he and Mindy planned to hang downstairs. It would be the first trophy for their version of the Batcave's Trophy Room. As he was finishing, the Instant Messenger alert on his computer sounded. He opened the screen to find a video chat window with Katie.

"Hey Katie, Merry Christmas!" Dave called out happily as he brought up the volume and angled the microphone on his computer.

"Merry Christmas, Dave." Katie answered back.

"I read in the online _New York Times_ about what happened with the Strangler. That's amazing!"

"Thanks." Dave said with a smile as he related the story of the capture.

"How's Christmas looking in New York City today?"

"It's cold and kind of gray. How's Colorado?"

"We're not there."

"You're not?"

"No. We're in Wolf Creek, Montana. We took the train up to visit my grandparents for Christmas."

"Oh, that's cool. Are you having a good time."

"It's awesome. Oh, Dave…I was wondering about something."

"What?"

"I guess you'll be talking to Mindy today, won't you?"

"Yeah"

"Can you ask her something?"

"What do you want me to ask her?"

"I was wondering if she had any relatives in Montana."

"I don't know. She's never mentioned anyone. Why?"

"Well, the other night, I was out with my family getting a Christmas tree. And, I saw a girl who looks JUST like her."

"No kidding."

"No, she was off with a boy and they were talking. It looked like he was her boyfriend, or something."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they were holding hands, they had their arms around each other, that type of thing. They were actually really sweet to see. But, they also seemed a little…weird."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they both looked pale. And I don't know if kids out here in the Rockies are tougher than back east or something because they were not dressed for weather."

"Huh?"

"Well, it was something like fifteen degrees below freezing, and these two were outside without any coats on. They had these thin shirts on and they looked like it could have been the middle of May for them. They were just laughing and throwing snow at each other. And get this…They were both in their bare feet. And it looked like they didn't even feel the cold. Isn't that crazy?"

"Totally"

"Like I said, she could be Mindy's exact double. And knowing how tough Mindy is, I thought this girl could be a distant relative."

"Mindy's never mentioned anyone. Maybe it's some branch of her family she doesn't even know about. Did you talk to them?"

"I was going to, but then my grandfather called me over and said we'd found our tree and were leaving."

"Too bad you couldn't get her name."

"Yeah, I overheard them calling each other by their first names though. I'm pretty sure she called the boy Owen, and I definitely heard him address her as Abby."

"Hmmm, like I said, Mindy's never mentioned anyone. I'll be sure to ask her though."

"Thanks" Katie said with a smile as they continued their conversation.

Dave had just ended the video chat and signed off when he heard voices downstairs. He heard his father talking, and recognized Mindy's voice followed by footsteps as she ascended the stairs to his room. A minute later, she was knocking on the frame of the door.

"Hey Dave…Merry Christmas." She said with a smile. Dave noted she had a decent-sized box, under her arm, wrapped in red festive paper.

"Merry Christmas to you too." Dave said with a smile as he walked over to her and gave her a hug as she set the box down so she could use both arms. Mindy felt the now familiar tingle shoot through her body whenever Dave touched her. She sighed to herself as thought about all that and what it all meant.

"Sorry if I came over early."

"It's no problem. Where's Marcus?"

"He's working the 7-3 shift today. He's able to work a desk, so he offered to work as the desk sergeant at the precinct today and give someone else the day off."

"That's nice of him."

"Yeah, and he'll get New Year's off now. Oh, and get this...Once his ankle is better and he's back to full mobility, he's getting a promotion."

"No shit?"

"No shit. He took the lieutenant's test back in October, and he passed it. But, he kind of suspects it has something do with him putting in Heffernan's name to the Task Force. When he was notified about it, they 'suggested' he not bring up anything about the Strangler Case to anyone in officialdom and -especially- the media. And, as a cherry on top of that sundae of awesomeness, he's being transferred to the Major Cases Unit at One Police Plaza once his ankle is cleared to go."

"So, we kind of are responsible for his getting a promotion?"

"Oh, I think we're definitely responsible for him getting a promotion. Marcus thinks so too, just so you know." Mindy said with a grin as they exchanged high-fives.

"Cool" Dave mused. "What's in the box?" He asked as he glanced over at the bulky package.

"Sit down." Mindy said simply. Dave complied and sat down on his bed. Mindy brought the box over and placed it on his lap.

"Um, I thought we were opening presents later this afternoon downstairs." Dave said with a puzzled look on his face.

"We are. This is something extra and, well, private. I didn't want anyone else seeing this. It's between you and me." Mindy said with an unreadable look on her face. "Please?" She asked with a faint smile.

"Sure." Dave said as he began to unwrap the package. Beneath the paper was a re-used Macy's box. Dave gently tugged the top off and pulled back some tissue paper. What lay beneath rendered him speechless.

A heavy black cape lay folded neatly within the box. On top of it was a black cowl-type mask that was all too familiar to him. And, as if he didn't need further recognition about what these items were, there was the final item in the box. It was a yellow utility belt with "BD" prominently etched on the buckle. He turned to his partner and friend…

"Mindy…"

"The cape and cowl were spares my dad kept. The utility belt I brought from the warehouse floor, by that webcam." Mindy said softly.

"I can't take these…"

"Oh yes, you can. Dave, you're the only person in the world who can. You're the only person in the world who's earned it. You're the only person in the world my dad would want to have it."

"I don't understand…"

"Dave, I don't want my father's…legacy to have died with him. I don't know what he'd have done if he'd lived to see us take down Frank D'Amico. Part of me wants to think he and I'd have moved upstate somewhere and settled down in a normal life. But, the part of me that knows what he was like…That part of me knows he'd have kept on being Big Daddy. I don't think he could've stopped if he wanted too, but I don't think he'd have really wanted to though. I think he'd have wanted Big Daddy to have kept up his fight against all the fuckers you and I are taking down."

"Hold on…You're saying you want me to be Big Daddy, rather than Kick-Ass? I can't do that!"

"Not now, no. But Dave, one day…when you're ready…You CAN do that. And, I'd like you do that. I mean, that's if you want to still keep on doing this."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you still want to keep doing this…wearing a costume…going out and doing what we do? Do you want to keep on doing this like you're Bruce Wayne or something and make it a career?" Mindy asked. Her tone was mild and she looked at Dave with genuine curiosity mixed with…hope, as she awaited his answer.

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to always do this?"

"I have to."

"What?"

"Dave…From the minute my dad came up with his idea, in prison, right after I was born, he always planned on me being Hit-Girl, or whatever name he'd have settled on for me. You saw that comic he drew? He drew me into it, wearing a mask." She shook her head sadly. "Dave, my fate…my life was set the minute he reached that decision. This is who I am. This is what I am. I…I'm going to do this until I can't anymore. It's what I was meant to do. It's what I was born to do."

Dave thought for a moment. He'd seen enough now to know what that life entailed. It was sacrifice. It was pain –physical, mental and emotional. It was becoming so hardened to death and suffering you wondered if your soul was still intact. It was isolation from anyone who didn't share your secret. It was putting your mask on at sunset and wondering if you'd still be alive to see the sun rise the next morning.

At the same time though, they were heroes. They took drug dealers off the streets. They made things safe for people. Less than two weeks ago, he and Mindy had caught a serial killer who'd murdered four innocent men. Yes, what they did helped others…that made it partially worthwhile.

And then there was the feeling he had. It was the feeling of being so…alive when he and Mindy embarked on their nightly crusade. Dave felt sorry for all the regular people in the city who simply couldn't understand the feeling. He'd felt dead for those two months where he and Mindy were 'retired', but the second he'd put his costume on again, it was like a rebirth. The hard truth was…he loved what he did. He was good at what he did, and he was becoming better all the time. This was his fate. This truly was his first best destiny. He smiled as he silently gave thanks…He could think of no better destiny for him.

In that instant, Dave understood what Katie had said the night before she left. He was addicted to this life he was leading, just as Mindy was. Mindy…he'd never had anyone in his life he felt closer to, or ever expected to. They fit together perfectly. And she was planning on doing this the rest of her life…or at least until she was no longer physically capable of doing the job effectively.

And he would let her do this alone? He would let her go out night after night, to fight the battle they'd begun to take to the cowardly scum of the city, on her own, for years…decades? How could he even dream of that? This was his fight now, as well as hers. He'd consecrated himself to the mission the same as she had. They were in this…together…forever. And, he'd have it no other way

"Mindy…You'd want to be beside me, if I wore your dad's old costume someday?"

"Like I said, there's nobody else in the world who I'd allow wear it."

"I don't know when I'd feel right doing it."

"I know. When the time is right…I think you'll know."

"Hit-Girl is now more or less permanently connected to Kick-Ass, you know."

"Maybe I'll do a new costume and identity then too." Mindy said with a smile. She was relieved that Dave would one day continue her father's legacy.

"I can't wait to see it."

"All in good time Dave." Mindy said with a smile as she moved her hand over onto Dave's and they held hands for a moment, as though forging this new partnership.

Dave looked over at Mindy. She looked, he realized, intensely pretty this Christmas Day. She was wearing a red sweater with green trim. Her blonde hair hung down her back and contrasted nicely with it. He mentally berated himself. Of late, he'd been thinking these strange thoughts about Mindy kept creeping into his head. He had no idea what was wrong with him. It was like he'd been reflecting more and more how attractive she was…how well they got along…how he felt he could talk to her about almost anything (the exception being these weird thoughts he was having about her)…how they could start a conversation at seven in the evening and still be going strong at midnight. She was…just perfectly awesome. Then it hit him with the force of an atom bomb…He was thinking about how great a girl Mindy was! He felt shame course through his body. She was a kid..thirteen! She was his best friend! She trusted him with her father's legacy! How could he let his thoughts go that way? Besides, she'd always see him as the geeky guy who was into comics. One day, she'd meet someone closer to her age that she'd fall for and that would be that. Of course, he wanted her to be happy…But he knew a part of him might feel something when that happened. Oh well, he thought…At least she'd still be my friend, he figured as he vowed to push thoughts like that from his mind forever. Dave reached his arm around Mindy and pulled her into a hug.

"Merry Christmas Mindy." He said softly.

"Merry Christmas right back at you, Dave." Mindy said as she returned the hug. Then, acting on some mad impulse, she reached up and gave Dave a kiss on the cheek. It felt like she'd touched a live wire while standing in a swimming pool. Her body practically hummed like a live high-tension wire. Oh fuck, she thought to herself. How could she let herself start to feel this way for Dave? Her realization of what had been happening had come to her slowly. But now, she was starting to realize that somehow…she'd allowed her feelings for Dave to evolve beyond friendship. As if her life couldn't be fucked up any more. He was her friend…her best friend EVER. What's more, she figured he'd always think of her as just this kid who wore pigtails on her first day at his school. And, even if she could somehow ever get him to see her as a girl he could be with, once she was older, what chance would she have? That was easy, none at all. He'd dated Katie Deuxma, the hottest and most popular girl at their school. That was the type of girl he wanted -beautiful, sophisticated, etc. How could he ever look at her …some violent, insane, foul-mouthed kid and think she could be someone he'd want to be with. She couldn't see him ever doing that…and she didn't blame him either. She did feel a little sad at the idea he'd someday find someone who'd see how great he was. Not that she would deny him happiness, of course. But, it made her wish, for once, she could be someone else than what she was. She vowed to push these thoughts from her head and never tell him ever. At least, she thought, he'd still be her friend, as she tightened her hug.

So, Dave and Mindy settled in to spend a happy, if wistful, Christmas together. They realized that now they were partners in what they did for the long haul. It felt…right. Mindy watched Dave put the box safely into his closet and then lead her downstairs, for some hot chocolate, before Marcus arrived and they'd open presents before dinner. Soon, they found themselves watching something on television and cracking each other up, their mutual angst forgotten…for now. All in all, it was a Christmas where they agreed they 'tasted the awesome'.

Across town, in a refurbished penthouse, a skinny, pale looking teenager lay nude across a table, receiving blows from pair of belts, given by a man and a woman dressed in red leather. On the bed, a naked woman awaited.

The blows stopped and the young man stood up. He always needed something like this before sex. It was the only way he could get everything working…down there. He couldn't NOT do what he had to do…His dad would've been disappointed then. And, he couldn't let his dad down…not again. He'd failed to stop THEM from killing his dad before. He couldn't fail his dad any longer.

Chris D'Amico looked briefly out the windows of the penthouse. He knew they were out there somewhere. Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl…the so-called "heroes" who'd inspired so many others now. They killed his father…and one day he was going to kill them. He wasn't going to do it now. He wasn't ready. He was forming his plans. He was working on his master scheme to bring back the D'Amico mob. He'd arrived back in town only a few days ago. Soon, he'd depart again after the holidays. He'd continue his quest to learn what he had to learn to take down Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. At the same time, he'd re-establish the D'Amico family where it should be in the underworld.

Feeling that he was finally ready for action on the bed, he turned about revealing his had black make-up around his eyes. He reached for mask on a table. He pulled it on, giving him the impression of someone with an exaggerated toothy smile. He looked at the woman on the bed. He didn't know her name. He just knew the rate he was paying for her.

"So baby," he intoned in a very nasally voice that had a lisp "Are you ready to taste the MIST of the Motherfucker?" He sneered. Oh, he was going to enjoy killing Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl…He'd like it far more than what he had to do now.

_Yup, I brought back Chris D'Amico for a cameo/lead-in for the next story where -needless to say- he'll play a major part in the villainy. I hope that's enough of a carrot to lure my readers back for further adventures with Dave and Mindy._

_Thanks so much for reading. I hope everyone enjoyed reading this story. I had a fun time writing it. I especially thank everyone who reviewed -especially individual chapters. Reviews are what a fanfiction writer's reward is. Thanks again eveyone. :-)_


End file.
